Fifty Shades Paralleled
by GalileaMICKEY
Summary: How would Christian react if Ana had her own someone that was as Elena was to him? From that perspective, would Christian not care, or would he be outraged? Christian's backstory is mildly the same. Ana's is not.
1. Introducing Christian

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Fifty Shades trilogy._

 _Enjoy._

* * *

 **CPOV**

 _The moment my eyes locked with hers, I was trapped._

I sit at the closed off VIP section of my club, alone. My idiot brother and my way-to-young-for-the-club-scene sister are somewhere on the dancefloor with their dates. I'd only come along because Mia had begged me to. Also, I wanted to get a better read on this so-called boyfriend of hers. I learned that I didn't like the fucker so this night wasn't a complete waste.

I take a drink from my glass and make a mental note to have the manager buy better wine. This was the most expensive bottle here, and the taste left a lot to be desired. Bored, I let my gaze wander. It isn't too crowded in here, thank fuck, but it's still early. I plan to leave before the crowd thickens.

From the hall that leads to the restrooms, I see a young woman emerge. She's a beauty. Her chocolate brown hair is in loose curls and as she turns toward the bar, I see that it reaches to the small of her back. Her back to me, I admire her ass … her round and grabbable ass. I shift in my seat as I feel my cock stir. _Damn._

The beauty orders what appears to be water but with the pulsing lights, I can't be certain. She takes a sip and scans the dancefloor. I hope she didn't come with a date. Downing the rest of my wine, I stand and rebutton my suit jacket. From the looks of it, and to my pleasure, the beauty is available. If she had come with a date or boyfriend, I couldn't imagine he'd leave her alone for too long. Assholes like me would hit on her, as I'm about to do.

I pass the VIP section and make my way to her. She moves off to the side, away from the bar but stays standing, staring at the dancing people. I take the rest of her in: milky white skin, an hour-glass figure with ample breasts, large almond-shaped blue eyes, a small button nose, and red full lips. She's wearing a pink short dress with a deep V-neck. The tops of her breasts are bulging out, and my mouth begins to water. I inconspicuously adjust my hard-on.

I'm a few feet away when her eyes lock on mine. Her eyes widen in surprise and appreciation, if I'm not mistaken. Her full glossed up lips part and a pink tongue is swept over them. I am enchanted, and her eyes hold me captive. Is she a siren? I believe so. She has me under her spell.

Apparently, I'm not the only one. Before I can reach her, a man presses himself to her and whispers something in her ear. Her eyes leave mine, and she gazes up at the douche who's trying to wrap his arm around her waist. Quickly, she moves away from him and says something back that looks vaguely like, "Sorry. I'm not interested." Still, the asshole continues his pursuit. Undeterred, I continue towards them.

"C'mon, babe," the asshole says. "At least let me buy you a drink."

"I said I wasn't interested," she replies. Though I know she's trying to be firm and clear, her voice just sounds soft. The picture of a kitten trying to roar enters my mind. Regardless, the asshole stays, and I'm beginning to see red. What the fuck doesn't he understand? No means no.

I reach them by now. I plant myself to her other side and glare over her head at Asshole. His eyes widen as he looks up at me—I'm a good five inches taller and thirty pounds heavier in muscle. He gulps. "I believe the lady said no."

"Sorry, man." Asshole raises his hands up in surrender. "I didn't know she was taken." Damn straight she was taken. After giving her a longing glance, he scurries off.

The "she" in question faces me. Her gaze goes up—and up—until her head is tilted nearly all the way back. I hadn't noticed how short she was from the distance. In four inch heels, the top of her head was just shy of being even with my shoulders. I realize I'm still glaring and quickly change it to my sexy smirk. She blinks at the change and smiles back tentatively.

After tucking a curl behind her ear, she says, "Thanks."

"My pleasure." And it was. "I hate it when assholes like that can't take no for an answer."

"Oh, so if I told you, 'no', you'd take it in stride?" She teases. Mirth lightens up her delicate features.

I cock an eyebrow. "Of course," I reply and lower my head closer to hers. "But you wouldn't."

My grin widens as her mirth changes to surprise. "Really? You sound so sure of yourself."

"I am."

"And what makes you think I wouldn't say no?" She takes a step back.

Is she challenging me? Challenge accepted. "Because you would have by now. It took you less than ten seconds to tell the other guy to fuck off."

Wariness clouds her face. "You haven't given me a chance to."

Before I can give her that chance, I stick my hand out. "Christian Grey."

With no hint of recognition, she places her tiny hand in mine and grips it firmly. "Anastasia Steele." What a beautiful name; it suits her.

A shock comes from our joined hands. _What the fuck was that?_ Ignoring it, I bring her hand up and press my lips to her knuckles. "Pleasure."

"Thanks," Anastasia says, reclaiming her hand.

"Are you here by yourself?"

"No. I came with my friend and her date."

"No date for you?"

"No date for me." _Thank fuck._ "You?"

I can't remember the last time I had a date. Oh, wait. That's because I've never had one. "Not today," I declare. _Not ever._ My eyes drop from Anastasia's pretty face, down her voluptuous body and back up. Well, perhaps with her. I find her smiling at me with her eyebrows raised. I grin back. _Yes, Ms. Steele, I find you mighty fine—and I'm going to have you tonight._ "Dance with me." I command.

"Yes, sir," she murmurs, looking up at me through her eyelashes. I blink. Sir?

I take her dainty hand in mine and lead her into the throng of dancing people. _Sir?_ I kick the thought out of my mind. Anastasia being a submissive—my type of submissive—would be too good to be true. The world isn't that kind, and I have the scars to prove it.

When we're in the middle of the dancefloor, I turn her so her back is to me. I place my hands on her hips and bring her close to my body, close enough so she can feel my half-hard cock pressing into her back. _If only she were taller_ , I muse. Then, I'd be able to rub it on her ass. I tilt my head down and inhale the fragrance coming from her hair. She has a sweet smell, nothing I've had the pleasure of sniffing.

Together, we dance. With the beat of the music, she grinds back against me. A thrill of desire soars throughout my limbs. I move one of my arms and wrap it around her small waist, making her body flush against me. Shit. My cock is hard at full mast now. I sweep her hair over her shoulder and kiss the soft skin at her throat.

Anastasia releases a breathy little moan. Fuck. She _tastes_ sweet. I, myself, release a groan. I kiss my way up to her ear, and I suck her earlobe into my mouth. She raises her arms over her head and buries her fingers in my hair. She pulls and tugs. I stifle my moan against her soft, creamy skin. I never knew that simple gesture could feel so stimulating. Not one of my submissives or Elena ever touched me like this. Then again, I've never felt such a pull towards anybody. It was as if fire was coursing in my veins, especially in my cock.

Gripping her tight to me, I whisper, "Come home with me."

Anastasia wiggles in my arms and turns to face me. Still flush against me, she wraps her arms around my neck and shoulders. "Quite presumptuous, aren't you?" She breathes. She rubs my nose with hers.

"You have no idea," I whisper.

Her baby blue eyes stare into mine, and I can see her desire. Her lips part. I can see her pink tongue, and I want to taste it. Without flair, I bring my lips down to hers. Her tongue submits to mine. I kiss her the way I'd fuck her if we weren't in the middle of the fucking club. My blood is pumping fast and straight to my cock. Damn it, we need to get out of here.

Before I blow my load, I break away from her. Both of us are breathing heavily. If kissing her is this hot, I can't imagine fucking her would be like. "Come home with me, baby."

Anastasia gives me a playful smirk—and it looks a bit evil, too. "I'm sorry, but I don't like cocky assholes."

 _Oh, baby._ "You don't have to like me to fuck me."


	2. Introducing Ana

_DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN FIFTY SHADES TRILOGY. JUST HAVING FUN WITH THE CHARACTERS._

 _Thanks to everyone giving my story a shot and to the faves, follows, and reviews!_

* * *

 **APOV**

 _"_ _You don't have to like me to fuck me."_ Oh, fuck.

The name Christian Grey had rung a bell, but I couldn't put my finger on where I'd heard it. No matter. The man standing before me, with his arms wrapped around my waist, was an enigma. I don't know what to make of him. If sex was a person, it would look like him. It _would_ be him. I've never seen a more handsome man—with his enticing grey eyes, unruly mess of brown hair and a near perfect symmetrical face. If that wasn't enough, the man was built like a freaking god. Also, judging by the hard rod pressing into my belly, he certainly was blessed by the gods.

My core clenches. I want him. Now. The heat radiating from his body is smothering, specifically on my stomach region. The pulse in my veins beats with his. I turn my face down from his and kiss his chest where I know his heart is. I can feel it pumping wildly through his shirt. He gasps and grips my hair in his large hands, forcing my head back up.

He lips meet mine. I thrust my tongue in his mouth, needing to taste him again. All too soon, though, he pulls away. We are a panting mess. Desperate, I reach up for his head and bring him back to me. He tries to move away again after a few moments, but I hold onto his ears. He chuckles against my mouth and gives me a few more seconds before pulling back again.

In defiance, I bite his bottom lip. He stays put between my teeth. I open my eyes and see him already watching me with half open eyes. I look down to where his lip is caught. The ends of his mouth curl in an amused smile. I feel him untangle his fingers from my hair and then trail them down my back. He cups my ass in his hands. I suck on his lip and stifle my moan. However, when I feel a sharp pinch, I yelp—releasing him.

Christian's lip is a bright red and a little swollen. He licks his lips and squeezes my rear. "Come home with me," he commands.

"Are we back to that, Mr. Grey?" I tease, stroking the hair that curls at the nape of his neck.

After another scorching kiss, Christian echoes, "Come home with me. Stop your little games and let me take you home." I gulp. I see a fire in his eyes; he's turned on but also annoyed.

An abrupt and not-so surprising feeling of coyness overcomes me. I am not a virgin, haven't been since I was fifteen, but I'd only ever been with one man a certain way. I doubt Christian knows how to dominate _dominate_ in the bedroom. Granted, the man oozes power and knows how to give a command. What were the chances Mr. Grey would be into hardcore kink with me?

 _What would Cason think about Mr. Grey and his dazzling gray eyes?_ I quickly halt my line of thinking. Cason's and mine's physical relationship ended months ago. I do not answer to him anymore. If I want to have sex with a guy who I'd only known for no more than twenty minutes, then that's my prerogative.

Throughout my inner monologue, Christian's gaze never wavers. Him patiently waiting—as patiently as a man with a hard-on can—solidified my decision. I may never see this man again, and I want to know how vanilla with him feels like.

"Okay." I whisper.

Christian exhales deeply and rewards me with a panty dropping smile. His hand envelopes mine, and he begins to lead me towards the entrance of the club. "Come."

"Whoa whoa whoa! Wait, Christian!" I tug on the hand in his grip until he lets go. He looks back at me confused. "I have to let my friend know I'm leaving." I explain.

His confusion morphs to relief to impatience. "Send her a text." He grabs my hand. "I can't wait any longer."

I quickly scan the club but no such luck. I lost Kate and her date the moment I went to release my bladder. Resigned, I dig my phone out of my cleavage and fire off a text message to her.

Ana: I made a new friend. Leaving now. Call you tomorrow.

When I don't get an immediate reply, I put my phone back. I look up at Christian and find him staring at my breasts hungrily. "My eyes are up here." I laugh as he looks up and back down.

"Is everything settled?" He asks, licking his lips.

"Yes." I reply huskily.

* * *

My eyes are closed as I'm lifted into Christian's arms. I vaguely hear the car door slam. I think that was the ding of an elevator, but I can't be sure. All I _can_ hear is the sounds of Christian's and mine's panting, the smacking noises of our lips as we kiss. My arms are around Christian's neck, and my legs around his hips. His erection is pressed into my center. As a matter-of-fact, it's pushing into my center.

I gasp into Christian's mouth and break away from him. His mouth attacks my neck instead. As he licks and sucks at my skin, I open my eyes to find us at the back of an elevator. _Are we at a hotel?_ No, wait. He said he lived in Escala on our way here from the club.

A moan escapes me when teeth graze my ear. "Oh, Christian."

"Anastasia," he simply breathes.

He kisses my jaw, and I claw at his shoulders. I plunge my tongue in his mouth as soon as his lips touch mine again. Christian's hands roam and grope my body. One hand pulls my dress up and a coolness hits my rear. Taken by surprise, I do nothing as his fingers inch inside my underwear from behind. Christian swallows my moans. I squirm a bit, but he tightens his arms around me. His fingers skim my ass low until, finally, they find my slit.

"Fuck, you're drenched," he gasps and shoves a finger inside me.

I cry out. Christian moves his digit in a slow rhythm. It's almost like he's exploring my core. "Christian," I moan. "Someone might come in."

"This is a private elevator, baby," he whispers in my ear. His finger stays lodged in my core. It stays there until I hear a _ding_ followed by the elevator doors opening. Quickly, Christian spins us around and walks us into a foyer. All I can make out from the lighting of the elevator is an empty flowers vase on a stand as Christian carries me throughout the dark apartment.

He takes me into a bedroom that I presume to be his. He sets me on my feet but before I can scan my surroundings, he begins to paw at my dress in search for my zipper. When he does, he wastes no time yanking it down. I distantly hear something _thunk_ on the floor.

The moment my breasts are free of my restraints, he bends down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I whimper and hold his head to my chest. My, God. How can a tongue be so skillful? Christian switches nipples. Pleasure is coursing throughout my body and throbbing at the apex of my thighs. I can feel the dampness in my panties. He sucks for a few seconds more, then he places hot kisses on my neck.

I grab the lapels of his jacket and help him slide it off. After that, I impatiently tug at the open collar of his shirt. Buttons scatter at our feet and so does his shirt. My hands explore the fine skin covering his thick shoulders. I trail them down his muscular back to his fine ass and squeeze.

He jerks in surprise. I smile and grip him tighter. Our mouths crash together as Christian moves his hands to grab at my rear. He walks me backward with us groping each other. I can feel his grin as we kiss.

Soon, the high bed hits the back of my thighs and I'm being pushed back to sit. I push myself up further and only stop when I'm at the center of the mattress. In the dark, I make out Christian's silhouette. He appears to be unbuckling his trousers. Licking my lips, I lay flat on my back and watch him. I can't see much but the sound of shoes being kicked off and clothing hitting the floor is unmistakable.

To my satisfaction, Christian makes quick work of getting my heels off. A sharp breath leaves me when teeth graze the sole of one of my feet. My breathing gets heavier as an expert tongue licks up my thigh. The bed dips as he climbs on and shoves my legs apart. There, a warm breath hits my panty-covered core. Hands tear at the sides of my underwear and the fabric gives. The shredded item is flung somewhere unseen.

Christian's tongue finds my exposed center and dives right in. I claw at the comforter beneath me. I cry out and jerk my hips up. All too soon, though, he pulls back. I reach for him, but he simply holds my hands at my sides. My disappointment dissipates when he kisses my bellybutton and moves upward. He licks my nipples and continues the path to my mouth.

His body settles over mine. The weight of him presses me further into the bed. I spread my thighs wider and wrap my legs around his hips.

Suddenly, Christian pulls back. "Holy fuck! Please tell you're clean and on birth control."

My eyes widen. _Holy fuck, indeed!_ "Yes and yes. Tell me you're clean?"

"I'm clean." Christian sighs.

He lets my hands go and rests himself on his elbows, hovering over me. Curious, I reach between our bodies and grab him. Damn! The man was hung! I pump him a few times, pleased with the shaky breaths escaping him. He was so soft and so thick and so hard. Was there any part of this man that wasn't perfect?

With unsteady hands, I position him at my opening. When Christian is in place, I clutch his shoulders. He kisses me once, and then thrusts into me hard. I moan loudly and tighten my hold on him. Right off the bat, Christian sets a fast and firm pace. It hurts a bit. I tighten my legs around him in the hopes that he'll slow down, but he doesn't.

Dear, God! The man is large. I can't explain the pleasure of having such an _alpha_ male on top of me. It's better than—dare I say it—Cason. The dominance of this man is otherworldly. He demands my submission without uttering a word.

I close my eyes, just feeling his cock slide in and out of me. I'm in bliss. My hips start to move of their own accord, and the pleasure is tenfold than before. I plant my feet flat on the mattress and thrust upwards as hard against him as I'm able. I cling to him with one hand between his shoulder blades and the other wrapped beneath his arm.

In his ear, I pant, "Christian," repeatedly. By the way he picks up the pace, he likes when I use his name. "Christian! Oh, Christian!" He grunts loudly in response. Other than that, the only noises that fill my ears is the sound of our flesh smacking together.

When the rise of my climax approaches, I grab Christian's face and force an open-mouthed kiss on him. He doesn't pull away to my relief and simply thrusts his tongue to direct mine. Christian swallows my moans as I climb higher and higher. When I reach the edge, my body spasms, and I cry out his name into his mouth. I ride the waves of pleasures loudly.

 _I hope his neighbors can't hear me_ , I think as start to come down. I am fatigued. My limbs are heavy, and I'm spaced out. I'm not under for long, though. Twin pulses of pain and pleasure ripple from my wrung-out and sensitive core. I'm shocked—and delighted—to feel Christian still going.

Christian is panting and moaning loudly above me. I open my eyes to find he is now supporting himself with his hands on both sides of my head. Sweat dribbles from his body and lands on me. I'm exhausted but determined to come again. With _him_ this time. With a moan and renewed energy, I move my hips to meet his. He gasps, and pulls away from me.

"Wha—" is all I manage when Christian unexpectedly flips me over. I gasp, then scream, as he enters me from behind. His legs straddle mine; his arm holds my torso down. I am helpless underneath him, and I love every second of it.

"Anastasia," Christian pants into my ear. "Fuck, baby." He moves my hair to one side and attacks my bare neck with his mouth. Keeping the same rhythm as before, he sucks at the skin beneath my ear. I clench the covers tightly and bask in the pleasure of him fucking me raw.

Quickly, the climb to my orgasm overcomes me. Christian is uncontrollably pounding into me, and it swiftly leads me to the peak. I shatter. From behind me, Christian releases a roar and joins me in climax. His hot semen fills me, and it sends me into another fit of tremors. When he's done releasing inside me, he collapses, pushing me further into the bed.

We come back to earth together after a few minutes. Christian pulls out of me. I ignore the warm tell-tale of him leaking from my body. Kisses are pressed to the heated skin on my back. I look back to him and those kisses press to my lips. I _hmm_ in content. Christian gets off me and rolls to his side. Drained, I do the same, putting my back to his front.

The last two things I feel is Christian kissing my shoulder and wrapping me in his arms.


	3. Morning Bliss Interrupted

_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN FIFTY SHADES TRILOGY._

* * *

 **APOV**

The sun hits my face in an unfamiliar direct way. No matter how I position my head, it's hitting me full force. Giving up on trying to sleep in, I stretch. Well, try to. Something is securing me. Confused, I open my eyes, but the damn sun is blinding me. I squint and take in my surroundings.

I'm lying on a massive bed that's not my own, naked. I try to sit up but an arm tightens around me. I'm in shock for all of two seconds when my memory comes and bitch slaps me. Holy shit! Christian! I try to twist my head to see him, but all I get is his arm around my waist. Carefully, I lift his arm. He stirs, and I still. When he's settled again, I gently move and twist my body until I'm free of his body. I continue to move slowly till I manage to scoot myself off the bed.

It's no wonder Christian can sleep with the damn sun streaming in here; his face is buried into his pillow. My eyes wander his naked body, and I smile. If I could whistle and catcall him without waking him up, I would. But alas, he looks so peaceful. I don't have the heart to wake him.

I survey his room. It's large, probably as big as my bedroom and the guestroom. _Scratch that_ , I think as I turn around. _It's bigger than those two rooms, my bathroom, and kitchen combined._ Two large entryways lead into a walk-in closet and a master bathroom.

I walk inside the latter, admiring the vastness and luxury-ness of it. I raise my brow at the _his_ and _hers_ sinks, though the _his_ seems to be the only one in use. There's no toilet in here, but upon further searching, I find it tucked neatly behind a tiled wall. I quickly release my bladder and then wash my hands.

I flinch when I see myself in the mirror above the sink. I look awful. My mascara and eyeliner is smeared and the pink lipstick is smudged all over my mouth. My hair is in tangles. First things first, I scrub my face clean. Then, I rifle through Christian's drawers. The closest thing he owns to a brush is a black comb. I dig some more but sadly don't find anything to hold my hair.

As soon as the last tangle was out, and my hair looked half-ways decent, I go to retrieve my dress. It is lying in a heap of other articles of clothing. I cringe at the wrinkles. Deciding against it, I pick up Christian's discarded shirt and shrug it on. A blinking blue light catches my eye as I finish buttoning up. My phone! I pick it up, and it vibrates in my hand. I have three missed calls and five texts.

Kate: Finally! Some1 got thru! Be safe & call me

 _Oh, Kate, when I tell you of Mister Sex God, your panties will incinerate._ That one was sent at 1:55 in the morning. It brings a smile to my face. The following four, however, wipe that grin off.

Cason: Rose, I'm at the restaurant. Shall I order for you?

Cason: Rose. You're 10 minutes late. I ordered you're favorite.

Cason: 20 minutes late. I'm calling you and if you don't answer, I'm taking you over my knee the next time I see you. Understood?

Cason: 2 fucking times you ignored my call. Where the fuck are you?

The last one was sent two minutes ago. I chew on my lip. Shit. The last missed call was a minute ago. I'm contemplating between texting him back or calling him. Just as I start to message him, my phone vibrates in my hand. An incoming call from Cason.

I walk out of Christian's room and shut the door behind me quietly. Still not thinking it sufficient, I wander out of the hall to a massive open floor plan. Wow. I look around, admiring his place. It's so extravagant. Exactly who the heck did I bump uglies with? Spying the kitchen, I walk over and plant my bare fanny—though I did my best to bring his shirt down to cover my butt—on a stool at the breakfast bar. Only then, do I answer.

"Hello?" I ask, timidly.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Cason immediately yells into my ear. I wince and pull my phone away. "Why haven't you answered your fucking phone?"

I breath in deeply and bring my feet up on the stool, wrapping my free arm around my knees. "I slept in. I'm sorry I made you wait."

"Damn it, Rose," Cason fumes. Even through the phone, I can tell he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "Didn't your alarm wake you?"

"It's on vibrate."

"I can't fucking believe this." Still, he rages. "Are you stupid? You know we had plans to have breakfast. Did you intentionally set this up so I would punish you later?"

I roll my eyes. "No," I insist. "I just forgot. I'm sorry."

He lets out a deep breath, trying—and I hope succeeding—to calm himself. "I'm sorry for yelling. You know how I worry. We could have rescheduled if you'd asked."

 _I tried_ , I think, _you refused._ "Look," I breathe, "I'm not going to make it. I just woke up. I'll call you later when I'm more awake."

"Rose, I'm not done talking to you. It's very rude to stand someone up."

"But it wasn't intentional. Like I said, I overslept a little."

There was a pause, then, "You never sleep in." Pause. "Unless we spent the night fucking. Then, you were dead to the world until noon." He laughs, and I suppress a wince.

All right, time for a subject change. "Again, sorry. Maybe we can have lunch instead. Just eat without me."

"I'm not there anymore. How about we do brunch instead? I'm famished." Through the phone, I hear Cason say hello to someone. Is that Mr. Aguilar from three floors down my apartment?

An uneasy feeling creeps up my spine _. Please tell me he's not going where I think he's going_ , I pray silently. "Cason, where are you?" I ask hesitantly. My feet find the cold floor again, and I nibble on my nails.

"On my way up to your apartment. Why?"

Crap, crap, crap. "I'm with Kate, at her apartment." God, he doesn't need to know I was with another man. He still harbors belief that I'm just going through an independent phase, and we'll eventually get back together. The last thing I want is to hurt/anger him.

There was a telling silence on the other end. I count to nineteen when he finally speaks again. "Are you with Kate, or at her apartment?"

"With Kate."

"Rose," Cason says sternly, "I called Kate before I left the restaurant. She's at her boyfriend's place. She claims you left to your own apartment after having a few drinks with them."

"Um," I say unintelligently. Damn it, that's right. Kate said she was staying with George the weekend. I face-palm.

"Rose, where are you?" Cason demands.

All right, Steele, put your big girl panties on and tell him. He is not your dominant anymore. With as much courage I can conjure up inside me, I announce, "That's none of your business." Each word is steady and clear. I pat myself on the back.

"What the fuck do you mean?" And the anger is back. "Tell me where you are right now." I stay silent. I'd much rather have this conversation face to face. "Fine. I'm letting myself in. You have twenty minutes to come home."

"Bu—," and he hung up. Damn it, now I'm angry.

What part of, "That's none of your business," doesn't he understand? It's been three months since we stopped having sex. Three months since I put my foot down and demanded he stop ordering me around. What is it going to take for him to understand that the only relationship I want from him is friendship?

I stare down at the blank screen of my phone, thinking. Should I go, or not? I don't like pissing him off, but enough is enough. I woke up so blissful and now I want to bash my head into the wall in frustration. What can I do to make him stop?

Suddenly, my phone lights up. I tense up but then relax. It's not Cason, thank God. Instead, it's Kate. Great, if she's calling to warn me about Cason, she's a little late.

"Hello, Kate, thanks for the war—," and I'm interrupted by Kate screeching my name in my ear. "Whoa! Calm down, Kate." I say, not making any sense of her blubbering. "Take a deep breath."

"Ana," Kate cries, "Ethan is in the hospital! My mom just called me."

"What? What happened? Is he going to be fine?" I jump to my feet. Fear settles deep in my bones. _Oh, God, don't take Ethan from me, too_.

I hear her sniffle through the phone. "He was jumped outside of a bar. Mom said he's all black and blue."

Poor Ethan. "But is he going to be okay?"

"She doesn't know. He was brought in unconscious, and she only just got there herself." More sniffles. "George is taking me to the hospital right now. Can you come? I need my best friend."

I'm already making my way back to Christian's room to retrieve my clothes and shoes. "Of course, Kate. He's my brother, too." I lower my voice to a whisper as I enter the bedroom. "Can you come pick me up? I'm at Escala." I grab my dress and look for my shoes. Where the hell did he toss them?

"Yeah. It's on the way. I think we're seven minutes from there."

"Great," I whisper. "I'll be waiting outside. See you soon." We hang up.

Finally, I see my heels near the bed. I tiptoe over to them—all the while keeping my eyes on Christian. I sit on the floor and strap them on quickly. My panties are at the foot of the bed, but they're torn. As much as I loathe the idea of being underwear-less, I decide to leave them for Christian as a memento. I'm sure he'll toss them out though.

I strip off his shirt and put on my wrinkled-up dress next. Now I'm semi-presentable. I walk over to Christian and plant a kiss on his forehead carefully. I enjoyed last night. However much I'd like to wake him, or leave my number behind, I don't have the time.

After giving the room one last glance to make sure I didn't forget anything, I head out to the elevator. But imagine my surprise when the doors won't open. Shit! I remember Christian saying this was a private elevator. Fuck, do I need a card to get out? Perhaps a code? God dammit! I check the time. I have two minutes left. Frustrated, I hit the call button again. Nothing.

I continue pressing it aggressively when the doors open abruptly, revealing a tall blond man. He stares at me in shock with his mouth open.

"Um, excuse me," I say.

He blinks a few times before a sly smirk graces his face. "Girls. Who would have guessed?" He mumbles to himself, looking me up and down. "I'm Elliot."

I stare at his outstretched hand and bite back my annoyance. "Hello, Elliot. I'm Ana." I impatiently take his hand and then quickly let it go. "Please excuse me. I have a family emergency. I need to leave."

Not hiding his surprise, Elliot finally steps out of the elevator. I squeeze past his large frame and enter the elevator. I have just pushed the button for the lobby when he speaks again. "Wait! Does Christian have your number?"

I shake my head as I feel myself blush. "It was a onetime thing. It was nice to meet you, Elliot."

The doors are beginning to close, but Elliot pushes his hand through to hold them open. "Hold on. Does he know that?"

"He will. Please move your hand." I snap. Kate should just be getting here. "I have an emergency. I have to go."

"Just tell me your full name. Please," Elliot begs, his grin now completely gone. He looks desperate, in stark contrast to his earlier elated expression.

Jesus Christ! "It's Anastasia Rose Steele. Move please."

He smiles but it looks forced. "Sorry. It's just that—ah—never mind." He clears his throat noisily. "Bye." He removes his hand from blocking the doors. "I hope your family emergency works itself out." He calls out just as the doors close.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Thanks to the faves, follows, and reviews:)_

 _Ana calls Ethan her brother, but they do not share any blood. Ana is just really close to Kate and Ethan. Also, there is no romance between them._


	4. Second Encounters

_Thank fuck for Elliot_ , I think as I re-read Ms. Anastasia Rose Steele's background check.

Last night, at the club, I'd sent Elliot and Mia a message, letting them know that I was done for the night and was heading home. I also told them to put their cab fare on me. I did not mention Anastasia. So, imagine my surprise when Elliot comes barging in my bedroom, griping me by my shoulders and shaking me awake, screaming, "Asshole! I thought you were gay!" Even after I landed a punch on his arm, he laughed and cheered, "My baby bro got his cherry popped!"

That comment refreshed my memory, and I searched for my apparent cherry popper, but I couldn't find her. At first, I'd figured Anastasia was hiding in the bathroom from my idiot brother, but he soon explained that he'd run into her at the elevator. "She said she had a family emergency. She said it was a one night's stand." He must have seen something in my expression because he'd quickly added, "Don't worry though. I have her full name so you can have your goons in black find her."

I'd thanked him but then kicked him out when he kept saying how smoking hot Ana was and that I was lucky to have pounced on her first. Elliot's flavor of choice is tall hot blondes, but he'd make an exception for this fun-sized brown-haired beauty—his words, not mine.

That was Saturday morning. Now, it's half-past noon on Monday—over a week since then. I'm sitting hungry behind at my desk and going over Ms. Steele's background check anew. It was a brow-raising background check from start to finish. That she was born and raised in Montesano was probably the only mundane thing in her life. Birth father, Franklin Lambert, died a day after she was born and was adopted a year later by Raymond Steele—who then died in a mugging gone wrong when she was seventeen. Mother, Carla May Wilks Adams, has been married five times, currently divorcing number five.

Anastasia is a bright and smart girl per her straight A's in both high school and university. One thing that I keep going over is her teen years. When Ana was thirteen, her mother divorced Raymond and gave him full custody of Anastasia. Upon his sudden passing, Raymond's best friend and business partner, Cason Westbrook, fostered her until she went to live in the dorms of WSU.

It seems her and this Cason fellow are close because shortly after she moved permanently in Seattle for work, he followed while also uprooting his carpentry business to Seattle. For two months, he was her roommate until he found a place ten minutes away from her apartment on Pike Place. They are the only emergency contacts for each other.

I set her background check down and take a drink from my coffee, thinking. Sex with Anastasia was phenomenal; unlike anything I've experienced, which says a lot. It happened over a week ago, and I'm still thinking about it. I wonder if it's simply having sex with _her_ , or perhaps vanilla isn't as plain and straightforward as I once thought. Somehow, though, I knew it was just her. For God's sakes, she touched me on my no-go areas, and I did not panic or react violently; if anything, I became more aroused. How curious.

Another thing that astounds me is that not only was the sex highly enjoyable, but I genuinely liked speaking to her. Is it another vanilla thing? None of my subs were allowed to talk to me freely; I had nothing I wanted to say to them, and they never held my interest further than taking care of them in and out of the playroom as the contract dictates. And most women I've met at charities, galas, or dinner functions become dim-witted the moment they see my face. The braver—or rather the stupider—ones throw themselves at me when they hear I'm _the_ Christian Grey.

Does Anastasia only have my attention because she offers something I've never experienced?

Whatever the fucking reason, I've decided to extend our one night's stand. I needed to see if the wine and/or four-month dry spell was behind the great vanilla sex. If it wasn't, and it's all her, she has no idea what she's in for.

Perhaps it's childish, but I also want to know why she left without a way for me to contact her. _Emergency, my ass._

First things first, I needed to "casually" encounter her. Since Monday of last week, I've had Sawyer keeping an eye on her. He assures me that she's not been with another man since me. Also, for the past week, she's taken her lunch in a little deli down the street from her work alone and always at 1:05. I glance at my watch. Her lunch hour will be starting in fifteen minutes. SIP is three streets down from GEH. If I leave now, walking, I will bump into her on her way there.

My lunch is usually from 12:30 to one on the dot, but I pushed it a half-hour back today. All I had since breakfast was a muffin from the employee's lounge. If I want this to appear real, I can't very well join Anastasia for lunch and then tell her I'd already eaten. I'm just _sure_ that would sit right with her.

I don't want to be late for my "casual encounter" with Anastasia. I stand, and I'm just shrugging on my business jacket when there's a knock on my office door.

"Enter," I say while I fix my collar.

Andrea walks in, a thick file and a manila envelope in her hands. "Mr. Grey, you requested this," she says, indicating the envelope, "and Mr. Welch's assistant just left this for you." Andrea holds up the file.

"Yes," I reply, walking around my desk towards her. "Thank you, Andrea." I set them both on my desk. One is for Anastasia to sign, and the other is a background check of her former foster father. Call my paranoid, but something is warning me to not turn a blind eye on Mr. Westbrook. Hence, a background check. "I'm leaving for lunch. Notify Taylor." I pat my pockets, making sure I have my wallet and phone. "Also, cancel my next appointment please."

I've got to give it to Andrea; she didn't bat an eye over my unusual decision to have lunch an hour late. Ever formal as I pay her to be, she replies, "Of course, Mr. Grey. What shall I tell Ms. Lincoln?"

 _Elena? How the fuck does this concern her?_ At my questioning expression, Andrea explains, "She's scheduled between 1:45 and 2:25. I believe she is bringing in her salon's monthly spreadsheets for you to look over, but her secretary wasn't clear."

I pinch the bridge on my nose, annoyed. Last month, I'd gone to New York for a week to finalize a deal. Elena had called before my flight back that she had a surprise for me and to let her know when I arrived home. I thought she meant that she'd found me a sub but as it was the middle of the night, I decided to head straight to bed. I'd settled in bed, back to the mattress, when someone sat down on my stomach, covered my mouth, and _shh'ed_ me in my ear. Instinctively, I punched at the profile of the intruder. To make a long story short, Elena was my _surprise_ , and I punched two of her teeth out. We haven't spoken since. I told her, after taking her to a hospital, that she crossed a line and to not contact me until I contacted her.

I exhale loudly. I wasn't ready to face Elena again. Partly because I feel a bit guilty and mostly because I was still pissed she'd tried something so stupid. During the ride to the hospital, she claimed she was doing it to help me blow off steam, but I secretly believed she was beginning to feel insecure with her age. Two of her last submissives left her for women twenty years her junior.

"Cancel it." I finally say to Andrea, who was waiting patiently. "Tell her secretary that if she needs assistance with the spreadsheets to hire someone. Do not schedule appointments for her until I give the okay."

"Yes, sir," Andrea says. Before she walks out, she tells me to enjoy my lunch.

 _I will_ , I think to myself, _once Ms. Steele is alongside me_.

I'm in the elevator, reminiscing of when I nearly took Anastasia in my private one at Escala. If the damn ride up had taken any longer, I'm certain I would have just taken her there and then. Hell, if my CPO hadn't been driving us, I'd fucked her in the car. Just the mental picture of her riding me in the front seat of my R8 was causing a stir in my pants. Car sex with Anastasia is going on my to-do list.

I breath in deeply. Soon I'll have her underneath me again. I know not today, but we can schedule a date or something. A _date_ is out of my comfort zone; however, I have hope it won't come to that. As Anastasia was rather keen to have me in between her legs a week ago, I have no doubt that the attraction and pull I feel for her is not one-sided. Yet if she decides that she wants a date before we have sex again, I'll be willing to do that, too. Only for her.

The elevator doors open to the reception area of the first floor. It's mostly deserted apart from one of the receptionists. As I walk past her, she smiles and greets me. I spy Taylor waiting by the entrance with his hands folded over each other in front of him.

"Sir," Taylor says. Unlike Andrea, Taylor is well aware of my sudden desire to go out for lunch. I briefly wonder what his thoughts of my abnormal behavior are. Since he's been in my employ, I have not ever chased a girl. Even if my end goal is more sex, the fact that I'm actively seeking her out must puzzle him. It puzzles me. Why shouldn't it puzzle him?

I nod in acknowledgement. Together, we head out into the chill of mid-October. The weather isn't bothersome to me, but I hope Anastasia is wearing a jacket. I wouldn't want her catching a cold and canceling on me. I plan for us to be together Friday night.

I begin my stroll down the block, Taylor keeping just a few steps behind me. When I'm a little more than halfway there, I cross the street. I'm just passing SIP's front door when I spy a certain small brunette woman some odd feet away. Anastasia. From behind, I can see she has her hair braided and tossed over her shoulder. Also, she's wearing a black coat that reaches her bare calves. For fuck's sakes, she's wearing a skirt in this weather?

I grimace. When she's mine, I'll make sure she dresses more warmly. A coat can only do so much. I pick up my pace. Anastasia is now slightly ahead of me. It's time to make my move, as my dear big brother would say.

Reaching out to touch her elbow, I say, "Excuse me, Miss?"

Anastasia looks over her shoulder at me and does a double take. Her eyes and mouth pop open in shock. I hold back a chuckle at her comical expression.

I give her my best smirk, and say, "Anastasia?" in feigned surprise. She turns her body completely around, facing me.

She blinks a few times as if she doesn't quite believe I'm in front of her. After a few more seconds of her openly gawking at me, she finally smiles back. "Christian? Hi. How are you?" She walks over to me and kisses my cheek. I feel a little something when her lips touch my skin. A little tingle in my chest.

"I'm doing good," I reply after kissing her soft cheek. "I hope you're well. My brother told me about your 'emergency.'" I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but I had my goons in black—as Elliot calls them—check all hospital admissions and police reports to only find nothing. The closest thing to family she has on this side of the country is her former foster dad, and he was completely fine this whole past week.

Anastasia pulls back a step and raises both eyebrows, surprised. "Um, yeah." She tucks an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. "One of my best friends was in the hospital."

Oh, friend. Not family. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is she all right?" Most women consider their girlfriends family, don't they? Mia does, but I thought it was just her.

" _He_ ," she emphasizes, "is doing okay. Thanks for asking."

"Good to hear." A guy best friend? He was probably gay, then. No competition there. "Are you on your lunch?"

Anastasia nods and eyes my watch. "What time is it?"

I quickly look. "1:12." She looks behind her, at the deli I assume. "I'm getting a snack at the deli further down the street. Join me."

"I'm headed there myself." Anastasia bites her lip, and I suppress a groan. Christ, maybe I should have "bumped" into her this past Friday. Now I'll have to wait all fucking week. "I'm actually meeting someone for lunch."

What. The. Fuck? "Really?" I ask, grinding my teeth. She fucking met someone? Already? She fucked me not ten days ago! She met someone? Inside, I'm seething; on the outside, I'm smiling. My cheeks are beginning to hurt. "With who?"

"A friend of mine. I've known him all my life," she states. Relief courses throughout my body. Anastasia said _friend_. Another guy friend. That's not so bad. I'm sure he's gay, too. Mia loves her male gay friends. "If you don't mind, you can join us."

I'm startled out of my thoughts. Anastasia stares at me, smiling eagerly. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

She giggles. _Shit, that ache again._ "I'm inviting you to have lunch with my friend and me, seeing as you're going to the same place."

An invite to lunch with her and her friend? Not how I envisaged this going, but beggars can't be choosers. "Sure. I'm in." I grin at her sincerely. She's behaving a lot better than I imagined, too. I figured I'd have to turn up the charm to convince her, but this is better. She was happy to see me. Maybe she truly was in a rush on Saturday morning.

"Great." We start to walk, shoulder to shoulder. Or rather, shoulder to head, even in her nude heels.

With her so close, I fight the urge to put my arm around her shoulders. I'd never done that as the risk of someone touching me would be high. Regardless, Anastasia might not appreciate it. She seems like a little friendly butterfly, but everyone has their personal space. Besides, it's too familiar a gesture. This is our second meeting.

Soon, we come upon the deli. Smiling, I hold the door open for Anastasia. From the corner of my eye, I see Taylor four feet away. I'd almost forgotten he was there behind us.

Seems this place is popular. A line of eight people stand in front the cashier. I look down at Anastasia. "Is your friend here?"

"Not from what I can see." Anastasia licks her lips and clutches at the strap of her small purse.

"Find us a table. I'll order for us."

She smiles at me. "Thanks, but I ordered my sandwich online. You choose a table. Online orders have their own register." I look over at where she's pointing. Hiding behind the first line is another cashier with a sign that reads, "Online orders only." Two people stood there. The cashier and a costumer. I wonder if that's how Andrea could normally get me my lunch fast at other eateries.

When I returned my gaze to hers, she adds, "I know the cashier. She and I had classes together. She'll let me order another sandwich."

"But it's online orders only, Ms. Steele," I tease. "You're a rebel." I'm rewarded with a laugh.

"Shut up. What do you want?"

I look up the menu hanging over the counter. "Grilled California Club with a water please." I start taking out my wallet.

Anastasia holds up her hand. "No. My treat."

I scoff, retrieving my credit card. "I'm not about to let the lady pay, Anastasia." I try to hand it to her, but she refuses it.

"I invited you, so therefore, I pay," she insists. An endearing pout starts to form on her lips.

Cute, but she's still not paying. "Regardless, I'm the man so I'm paying."

With a dramatic huff and roll of her eyes, she gives up. "Fine." The card now in her grip she walks off.

"My palm is twitching, Ms. Steele," I say under my breath. Her ass, though only hinted at under her coat, looks so inviting to smack. This weekend I'll see if little Ms. Steele is up for some kinky fuckery.

I glance around the little deli and spy Taylor near the back. He sits at a small table meant for only two people. Close to him is a booth. As I walk over there, I wonder if Anastasia will sit beside me or her friend. Soon enough after I've chosen the side that puts everyone in my line of sight, Anastasia comes forward with a tray. I stand and take it from her hands, setting it and our food on the table.

"Is it alright if we share a seat? My friend doesn't like sharing." Anastasia indicates the side I've picked to sit. I nod and grin. _She picked me._

She scoots herself in and begins to separate our sandwiches and drinks. I sit next to her, bumping my shoulder to hers.

"Before I forget," Anastasia digs in her coat pocket, "here is your credit card."

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it." I pull out my wallet, slide my card in, and put it all back inside my jacket's hidden pocket.

Anastasia smiles playfully. "Nope. Seeing as I still paid with _my_ card, it wasn't hard at all." She laughs as I look at her in disbelief.

I chuckle, looking into her blue eyes that are filled with mirth. It reminds me of her teasing me at the club. I lean close and whisper in her ear. "You'll pay for that, Anastasia." Her eyes darken and she bites her lip.

Just as I'm about to lean in and kiss her, someone clears their throat. I straighten in my seat and look up at the fucker who interrupted us. A tall man stands next to the booth.

"Rose," the man says, smiling down at her. When his focus shifts to me, his eyes turn cold. "You failed to mention someone was joining us."

* * *

 _I created a Pinterest for this story. L_ _ook up the board Fifty Shades Paralleled under pinner Janine Diaz._

 _Massive thanks to all who've reviewed, followed, and favorite-d._


	5. Sweet and Sour

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN FSOG. THE CHARACTERS AND SUCH BELONG SOLELY TO E.L. JAMES.**

 _Author's note at the bottom._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

CPOV

The fucker who called my girl Rose glares down at me in distaste. Surprised by her obviously-not-gay-friend's hostility, I turn to Anastasia in question. _Who the fuck is this asshole?_ Her attention isn't focused on me, though. She's smiling brightly, albeit a tad stiffly, at the fucker.

"Case," she says warmly, waving her hand at him.

I'd suspected—or hoped, whatever—that her friend was homosexual. However, when he faced her, his eyes quickly drifted down to her cleavage, which Anastasia had modestly displayed. Also, this man was in his forties. At the least, his late thirties. And the fucker was good looking. If Mom and Mia were here, they'd swoon.

Similarly, I'd expected someone . . . friendly. Anastasia didn't strike me as the type of person to be friends with an antagonistic person. This asshat hasn't uttered a word to me, but I'm quite aware of what kind of nasty individual this man is. Just by the way he carries himself and especially how he is glaring at me unprovoked. Not that I give two shits what he thinks of me. My only worry is if his opinion is of high value to Anastasia.

An awkward silence ensues after Anastasia's greeting. I look between them. Case stares at Anastasia, pointedly ignoring me. Anastasia's smile vanished somewhere when I was assessing her friend. Now, she met Case's eyes as if she were challenging him.

Anastasia clears her throat and breaks eye contact with him. Gesturing, she introduces us. "Case, Christian Grey. Christian, Cason Westbrook." Wait, her former foster dad? Well, her background did reveal the two of them were close. Perhaps that's why he doesn't like me. He did foster her after all. He must view her as his daughter.

With a practiced ease, I school my features to display an open friendliness. Though I'd much rather give him my "CEO" face—as my siblings call it—I do understand the urge to be protective. I'm like that with Mia. Hell, if I met someone she had a one night stand with, much less him wanting to propose to have a fuckfest as I with Anastasia, I'd pummel his ass to the ground prior to ruining his career. From the cold look Cason is sending in my direction, he must be feeling that same way now. I need to play this carefully.

I hold out my hand and manage a smile. "Good to meet you."

Cason hides a grimace—I saw it, doubt Ana did—and reluctantly extends his. "Likewise." His grip is too tight to be considered polite, but if this fucker expects me to cringe in pain, he has another thing coming.

I want to crush his hand in my own, but I am sure that would be counterproductive in my aim to get him to like me. But as moments go by with him attempting to break my fingers, I think, _Fuck it._ He'll just have to tolerate me so long as I am in Anastasia's life. I tighten my hold on his hand. Sure enough, he winces and withdraws instantly.

While trying to discreetly shake his hand out, he asks _Rose_ , "I thought we'd arranged for an intimate lunch, just the two of us?" _Intimate?_

"Oh, well, Christian and I ran into each other on our way here, and as he was eating lunch here as well, I figured I'd invite him. The more the merrier." She smiles sweetly. A little too sweetly, I think.

Cason returns his eyes to me. I can tell from his tense features that he was trying to force the grimace off his face. "Well, I'm going to order my sandwich." With that, he saunters off to the "online orders only" line. Am I the only one that didn't know of that secret fucking line?

"He's really not that bad once you get to know him."

I twist my torso to look at Anastasia. "I found him quite charming, actually," I joke. Jokes aren't exactly my forte, but I find it comes effortlessly with her. Why her?

She smiles sincerely. "No, really. He can be a bit high-handed, but he'll grow on you."

"Why does he call you, 'Rose?'" I lift my sandwich and take a bite. Holy crap, this is delicious. I inwardly groan.

She chews her first bite and swallows. "It's my middle name. He likes it better than my actual name." There's a pause as she chews and swallows another bite. "That reminds me. You don't have to keep calling me, 'Anastasia.' 'Ana' works just fine."

"What if I prefer your full name?" I challenge, watching her eat. How is everything this young woman does a turn on? Yeah, take a big bite of that sandwich, sweetheart. . . Fuck, she's made me weird.

"You can if you want, but I'd rather you call me something other than that. It reminds me of the times my mom or dad would scold me."

Finished with a half of my sandwich, I pick up the other. "Dove. Pipsqueak. Sunshine. Baby. Take your pick."

She laughs. "Okay, first, I'm not a baby, so don't call me that. I'm not that short, so no to pipsqueak. And don't you think about calling me after a soap brand." She takes a gulp of her lemonade.

Laughing, I say, "All right, fine. You're stuck with sunshine."

"Only if I can call you, 'Daddy.'" She whispers seductively. I choke on my sandwich. "What's wrong— _Daddy_." Ana pats me on the back, between my shoulder blades. No reaction other than the tightening of my pants. Fucking hell, she's amazing.

I clear my throat, and swallow. "Watch yourself, little girl," I lean close to put my lips to her ear. "I'll spank you the next time we're alone." I lean back and relish in the look of pure shock and arousal on her face.

"So, how did the two of you meet?" Cason abruptly says, startling Ana and myself apart. Simultaneously, we look at him sliding himself into the seat across from us. "Had to be recent as you've never mentioned him before, Rose." He takes a bite of his club, which seems to be the same one I've got.

As she's slow to answer, I decide to take it upon myself. "We met at a club a little over a week ago."

"Club? You don't like those public places with their loud music." Then, his face goes still. "A week ago, you said, Chris." I nod, holding back a retort on his shortened version of my name. "So, two Saturdays ago?"

"Yes. I asked her to dance, and we had a fun night." Fun night of fucking, but there's no way I'm telling him that. "We just re-connected today."

Cason kept sifting his gaze between Ana and myself, anger and disgust clouding his face. I feel myself tense. "This is the guy you fucked?" From the edge of my vision, I see Ana is flabbergasted.

I sit up straighter, surprised myself. "That is between Anastasia and myself. It's no concern of yours."

"She's mi—," Cason starts, but is promptly interrupted by Ana.

"We talked about this!" She whispers harshly, looking around the restaurant to make sure no one else heard.

Taylor heard, and he's watching Cason closely. When he notices my eye on him, I give a subtle shake of my head to let him know to not intervene. I don't want to cause a scene. He sits back, but keeps his eyes on our table. If the proclamation surprised him, too, he didn't show it.

Ana continues. "I'm not a kid. We were both consenting adults, and I don't need you breathing down my neck. I'm not yours to worry after anymore."

Her words make him turn red, but other than that, he shows no other sign that he heard her. He is glaring at me as if he wants to strangle me.

I wonder what he was going to say before he was interrupted. Also, what did Ana mean when she said she wasn't his anymore? As in his dependent, did she mean? Disturbingly, when his eyes did shift to her, I can only see possessiveness. That is nothing a parental figure should feel towards his unofficial adoptive daughter. It's nothing like how Carrick looks at Mia. However, I do recognize that look from somewhere; I just can't place it. Cason is staring at Ana like she's his _his_. It's wrong, like how . . . how . . .

Before I finish that disturbing thought, Ana speaks up again. "I'm not asking you to like it, but at least except it."

It's silent at our table, and awkward. I don't know what to say. The unfinished, disturbing thought is still circling in my head, but I'm trying to focus on anything but that. It's to . . . nauseating.

Ana is silently finishing the last of her skinny little sandwich. I have a few bites left of mine. I haven't even touched my water. With that, I drink until it's all gone. Cason is eating slowing, almost as if it's killing him. And still glaring at me.

"I think it's time I head back to work." Ana says when she's completely done with her food and drink. She stands after gathering all her trash. "I'll talk to you another time, Case."

I follow suit. "Yes, I'll walk with you." Together, we dump our trash, and head out the door. At a backward glance, I find Cason staring after Ana longingly. Taylor is following us out a few steps behind.

We walk in the direction we came, not saying a word. Me because I'm still disturbed. I can only assume Ana is mortified.

"I am so sorry. I had no idea he was going to bring that night up." Ana says quietly, peeking up at me from under her lashes.

I try to reassure her. "I understand. My only question is how does he know about that night?" I have another question, but I don't think she'll appreciate it all that much.

"He called me the morning after. We'd had plans for breakfast but I never showed, so he was checking on me," she explains. "He'd called me a few times, actually, but I had my phone on silent. When I didn't answer, he checked with my friend, Kate, who I'd been with that night. She told him that I'd left for home, but he was on his way there so I told him I wasn't home. He put two and two together. This was our first time seeing each other since that day, actually."

"Is this your first offense?" I try to joke, but it falls flat. "How do you know him?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"Um, I've known him since I was thirteen. He and my dad apparently knew each other from their military days, but I believe he was younger than my dad. My dad passed away in my late teens, and Cason took it upon himself to take me in."

"I'm sorry for your loss." I say.

"Thank you."

The conversation lulls for a moment. As we maneuver our way through lunch hour foot traffic, I realize we're close to our "meeting" point.

I clear my throat noisily. Fuck, my palms are sweaty. I've never asked anyone to a date before. I know a date was a back-up plan in case she wasn't up to a repeat of our one-night stand, but after lunch together—when we were alone—I find I truly enjoy our banter. I enjoy her, period. I want more time with her without interruptions. Now I need to play it cool. How odd is it that I have no reservations talking sex with her, but for a simple date, I find myself nervous?

"Sunshine," I begin, hoping the pet name will begin to ease the tension left from Cason, "would you like to have dinner with me?"

It works. A smile graces her pretty face. Giggling, my sunshine says, "I'd love to, pumpkin."

* * *

 _So first off, I want to say I'm so sorry for the delayed chapter :( I kept rewriting it, then I decided to join different versions, and then summer semester started and I lost the time. Mostly though, I couldn't figure out how to put Christian and Cason in the same room. I thought I had it figured out, but the first two times did not work for me. Finally, I got it tonight. All mistakes are mine; I don't have a beta and I don't know how to get one._

 _Hope you enjoyed reading. Big thanks to all who reviewed, followed, and faved._

 _Quick question. Now that you've seen my writing style on both Christian and Ana, which do you prefer? I personally find it easier writing for Christian for some odd reason. Thanks for your feedback:)_


	6. Dinner Date

_Disclaimer: I do not own FSOG!_

 _Quick thing. While texting, Christian is bold and Ana is bold and italic._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

From: Christian Grey

To: Anastasia Steele

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:15 PM

Subject: Good Evening Sunshine

Hope you arrived safe and sound to your apartment.

I am sitting in my home office and a beautiful woman won't leave my thoughts. How is a man supposed to get any work done when he has you on his mind?

Christian Grey

CEO of Grey Enterprise Holdings

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

To: Christian Grey

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:20 PM

Subject: Hello Pumpkin

Hey, Christian. Yes, I arrived S&S. How gallant of you to ask.

Sorry for the intrusion Don't mean to be a bother.

Ana

* * *

From: Christian Grey

To: Anastasia Steele

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:22 PM

Subject: Am I Still Pumpkin?

Good to hear, Ana.

Believe me when I say I don't mind your intrusion _._ I encourage—no, I beg—you to stay for however long you like. You are more than welcome.

My weekend is cleared completely from Friday to Sunday. Which day would you like to have dinner?

Christian Grey

CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

To: Christian Grey

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:25 PM

Subject: Daddy Then?

Then I shall stay.

My weekend is clear, too. I get out of work at 4:30 on Fridays.

Ana

* * *

From: Christian Grey

To: Anastasia Steele

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:27 PM

Subject: You're Killing Me Here

Friday it is then. Would you like me to pick you up after you get off?

Christian Grey

CEO of Grey Enterprise Holdings

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

To: Christian Grey

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:29 PM

Subject: Oh, But I Like Daddy

Isn't 4:30 a little too early to have dinner? How about you pick me up at my apartment instead? I'd like the chance get out of my work clothes before going on a date with you.

Ana

* * *

From: Christian Grey

To: Anastasia Steele

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:30 PM

Subject: My Palm Is Twitching

We could have found a way to pass the time, I'm sure. You could be wearing a burlap sack and still look amazing, but if you want to doll yourself up for me, I'm not complaining. How does 7:30 sound?

Christian Grey

CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

To: Christian Grey

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:33 PM

Subject: How Scary

Yes, we could have, but then we might have missed dinner, and this girl has got to eat. Perfect. I'll be ready, and I might just take you up on that. I'll text you my address.

Ana

* * *

From: Christian Grey

To: Anastasia Steele

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:35 PM

Subject: Careful or Else You'll Find Yourself Over My Knee

Great. It's a date.

Christian Grey

CEO of Grey Enterprise Holdings

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

To: Christian Grey

Date: Monday 12, 2015 at 7:40 PM

Subject: Promise?

OK. Can't wait.

Sweet dreams

Ana

* * *

Today is Friday, my dinner date with Ana. Since Monday evening when I first emailed her, I've been restless, waiting for today. I hate waiting. However, my patience is about to be rewarded. Currently, I am sitting in the back of one of my Audi SUVs with Taylor driving and Sawyer riding shotgun.

I'm staring at my phone's background picture, which is of Ana. Last night, as per new custom, I'd sent Ana a good night text. In response, she sent one also but attached a photo. It's a selfie of her without makeup, hair in disarray, and her all cuddle up in bed. I saved it as my screen background immediately after using it. Afterwards, I thanked her for helping me relieve some tension. She texted back a laughing emoji.

Smiling, I gaze at her photo and trace the outline of her face. I hope I'll be seeing this tonight or in the morning.

I'm brought out of my perverted fantasies when I feel Taylor park the SUV.

Quickly, I sent off a text to Ana. **Just arrived.**

 ** _You're early. I thought we agreed on 7:30?_**

Confused, I look at my watch. Shit, I am early, too early. It's nine past seven **. Sorry, I misjudged the traffic. I was eager to see you again and did not want to be late. Do you still need time?**

 ** _I just need to put my dress on. And shoes. You can come up if you'd like._**

 **OK. I'll be right up.** "Taylor," I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Keep the car warm. I'm going up."

"Yes, Sir." Always stoic, as I pay him to be.

 ** _Fourth floor, apartment 13. I'll leave the door unlocked. Let yourself in._**

 **That is completely unsafe, Anastasia.**

 ** _Bite me_**

 _Oh, I will_ , I think, grinning. I walk inside the lobby, which is just a desk with no one behind it. Where is the security? I see one camera facing the entrance, only one. My smile gone, I take out my phone and text Sawyer to do a quick security check of Ana's building. When Sawyer followed her around, he never entered her building.

I step into one of the two elevators and press the button for her floor. A short ride and six steps later, I stand in front of her door. I knock and then twist the doorknob. Unlocked, as she said. She is undeniably getting a red and sore ass later tonight. I don't know when or where, but she is. Leaving her door unlocked, and with the lack of security in her building, too! My palm is twitching.

"Ana?" I call out as I cross the threshold.

"In my room!" I hear her shout. "Be right there! Make yourself at home."

Alright then. My eyes scan her apartment. Small, but cozy. Warm is the right way to describe her living space. Gray and pink, fitting I think. On her coffee table, is a white vase empty of flowers, and my heart nearly stops. Crap, should I have brought her flowers? Oh, fuck! How the hell did that slip my mind? Of course, I should have gotten her flowers. It's tradition to bring your date flowers. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Next time. Hopefully, if I don't fuck the rest of the night up. Fuck. Hopefully, she wasn't expecting them. _Next time_ , I promise to myself. I'll be sure to have Gail, Taylor, Andrea, and who the fuck else remind me next time.

During another survey of her home, I spy an unusual bookshelf tucked neatly in the corner of her living room. It looks like a tree with a thick trunk and wide shelves to replace branches. I go to it. It's overflowing with books, classic novels it looks likes. I like it; it's something I would buy, but it's too small for all the novels I have at Escala.

"My dad custom made it for my tenth birthday." I jump slightly, startled. Ana was standing behind me.

Turning, I say, "He had talent. It's exquisite." I finally see her. "As are you, Sunshine." My eyes travel every inch of her, and it's still not enough. Her hair is pinned back to show her beautiful face, her soft wavy hair framing her delicate features perfectly. Her makeup is flawless, just mascara and bright red lipstick. My god. She's wearing a white fit and flare dress that ends just past her knees, very classy for a first date. With that, she wears her nude heels that she wore on Monday for work. I frown at that. Only designer's shoes should be gracing her small feet. Still, she is breathtaking. No jewelry.

"Damn," I whisper before dipping my head to kiss her.

She giggles and places her hands on my stomach to prevent me from getting closer to her. "I don't think you'll be happy if I stained your lips red, Christian."

I remove her hands, hold them in mine, and smile down at her. "I don't give a fuck." With that, I lean down and press my lips to hers. I can feel her smiling.

We stay lip-locked for a few moments, but when I press my growing erection into her belly, her stomach growls loudly. Well, that can wait. I need to feed my Ana. I laugh. "Hungry, are we?"

She blushes, and a little snort escapes her. "You have no idea."

"Well then, shall we?" I gesture to the door and hold my arm out for her. She grabs her purse that is hanging on a coat rack and laces her arm through mine.

"We shall."

* * *

Ana and I have just been served, a grilled lime salmon with coconut rice for her and ribeye steak with shrimp for me. "How are you going to eat all of that?" Ana asks, pointing at my plate with her fork. "It looks as if it's for two people, not one."

"It is," I say while spearing a shrimp and piece of steak. "I've gotten this before here, and I never leave any scraps." I put the food in my mouth, savouring the flavors. This dish is unquestionably my favorite in my restaurant, the Mile-High Club.

She shrugs, unconvinced. "I'll believe it when I see it." She takes a bite of her food, and a moan escapes her. After swallowing, she exclaims, "Damn, this is good chicken." Quickly, as if her food might vanish, she stuffs more into her mouth.

Meanwhile, I'm carefully chewing and fighting an erection from the sexy little noises that she's making. If I were to close my eyes and think back to our one night stand, her moans then and now would be the nearly the same. I love that she isn't a shy eater, though. Means that she won't be silently starving herself whenever we dine together in the future.

After swallowing my last shrimp, I gulp some wine. So far, we're both half ways done with our food. We've both been busy scarfing down our meal, we've neglected to talk. Though I think that should worry me, it doesn't. I'm pleased she places eating above making conversation. Then again, she had said she was hungry.

I clear my throat to get her attention. When her eyes leave her plate, I ask, "When was the last time you ate?"

She thinks for a moment, then admits, "I had a banana this morning."

"You've only eaten a banana today?" I am aghast as she nods. "That is not a meal. Why didn't you eat lunch?" I hope this isn't an everyday occurrence. That will not do.

Ana holds her hands up. "Breakfast was my fault; I will admit that. I was running late and grabbed something I could eat while waiting for the elevator."

"And lunch? Whose fault is that?"

She grimaces. "Indirectly, mine, too. There was an accident on my way to work and the traffic was killer. I was late by forty minutes. I called one of my co-workers to warn my boss, but he was still pissed off." Ana stabs another bite into her mouth.

Alarmed, I demand, "Your boss refused to let you eat lunch?"

I feel my hackles raise when she nods. "He wanted me to make up the work I could have done if I'd arrived on time."

"He cannot legally keep you from eating lunch. What the fuck! By law, he is required to give you at least half an hour of every five-hour shift. Did you write up a complaint to HR?" What a fucking prick! I'll have to look into her background check to see who her boss is.

"I tried," Ana answered. At my silent prompting, she explains, "When I tried to, the Head of HR told me it was my problem, not hers. She then phoned my boss to tell him that I tried to write a complaint against him, and he gave me a whole bunch of crap work that an intern could have done and told me I needed to complete all of it plus the two manuscripts I already had by today or he'll fire me. I stayed until six to finish everything."

Following her long rant, I take my phone out and email Ros to research everything she can on SIP. When finished, I put my phone away and focus on Ana. She's glaring at her plate. The sight forces a smile from me. I don't think she realizes how cute her glares actually are. Quickly, I take my phone out anew and take a photo of her.

The clicking sound draws her attention to me. "Sorry," I say, insincerely. "You looked so adorable I wanted to capture the moment." I tuck my phone back inside my jacket.

Ana lost her glare and looks confused. "Adorable?"

"Adorable," I confirm whilst taking the final bite of my meal. "See, I told you I could finish it."

Letting my first comment go, she giggles. "Where did you put it away? There is no way you finished all of that."

Jokingly, I say, "If you'd paid more attention to me than your food, you would have seen it."

She just laughs. After she takes her last bite—she ate everything unsurprisingly—the waiter comes by to refill our glasses and clear away our plates with the promise to bring out our take home desert. When we ordered earlier and the waiter had mentioned desert, Ana had run her bare foot up my thigh near my crotch. Upon seeing her flirty smile and promise in her eyes, I ordered a tripled-layered chocolate cake to go.

While we wait, Ana looks around the restaurant, biting her lip. I reach across the table and grasp her hand. She returns her attention to me. Appearing completely in awe, she says, "This place is amazing, Christian. And the food was phenomenal. How did you get a reservation on such short notice? Last week, my boss had me try to make a reservation for him and a client, but I was told that they were completely booked to December." Again, she studies the room and the other diners.

I suppose from her perspective—growing up in a middle-income home—the Mile-High Club could be considered extremely fancy. I eat here at least once a week for business meetings and such so I've grown numb to it. I try to see the room from her point of view, but I can't. It's just a bunch of tables, expensive china and silverware, good wine, and competent waiters. Well, the food always makes me moan in appreciation so I might not be totally desensitized.

I squeeze her hand, and her attention is brought back from ogling the place. "That doesn't surprise me. Unless you have high-standing with the owner, you'll have to wait two to four months for a reservation."

"Oh, and you have high standing with the owner?"

I smirk. "I am the owner." I laugh when her mouth plops open in shock.

"You own all of this?" With her free hand, she gestures to the whole room. "I didn't know you were this well off."

"How do you think I'm able to afford a penthouse in Escala?" I ask, confused now. Doesn't she know who I am? She didn't know that Mile-High is mine, but it wouldn't show at the top of the many things I own if she were to Google me.

"I thought you were a trust fund baby," she admits embarrassedly.

 _What?_ Annoyed, I snap, "I can assure you that my parents did not give me a cent for my penthouse, businesses, or anything else. I did it myself by old-fashioned hard work and determination." Ana snatches her hand back when I unintentionally squeeze it too hard. She looks at me wide-eyed.

"I'm s-sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." She drops her eyes and hides her hands under the table.

I sigh and run a hand over my hair. Great, I think I just fucked my chances of getting _fucked_. And I was so close, too. "Ana," I say, "I'm the one that needs to apologize. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It was a harmless assumption." I do feel guilty snapping at her. When she still refuses to meet my eyes, I add, "Truly, Ana, forgive me. It won't happen again."

She finally looks up at me. "It's fine, Christian, it was me that made the unfair assumption. It's only natural for you to get sensitive about it after you worked so hard on your own."

Silence ensues. Damn it, it was all going so well. When we first arrived, we went through the basic family and how-was-your-day questions. I informed her about being adopted and how annoying growing up with siblings could be, namely my brother Elliot. My day was spent waiting anxiously for our date tonight. She gave me basically what her background check revealed, but downplayed Cason a lot. I planned to ask more after settling back at Escala.

Well, I think that plan has been shot down. I run a hand over my hair again. How can I convince her to come back with me after talking to her like that and hurting her hand? As I'm plotting my next move of action to get me some action, the waiter returns with our desert. After wishing us a wonderful night, he scurries off. I pick up the bag with the cake while Ana and I rise from our seats. I'm slightly soothed when she offers me one of her sweet smiles. Perhaps the night isn't completely ruined. We make our way to the elevators.

"Wait!" Ana exclaims, almost turning back. "We forgot to pay!"

I laugh and place my hand on her waist to prevent her from returning to our table. "Remember, I own this place."

"Oh, that's right." She smiles sheepishly up at me. "I forgot." She hasn't removed my hand, so that must be a sign that she isn't upset with me.

We're the only ones that enter the elevator. The doors close, and I press for the parking garage. Experimentally, I move myself to stand in front of her. Our eyes are locked, and I relish in the sexual tension that envelopes us as soon as we are alone. Slowly, so she sees my intention, I lean down until her lips are just inches away from mine. Ana turns her face up.

I take that as an invitation. Aware of the bag in my one hand, I remove my other one from around her small waist and bring it up to cup her face. There, now just an inch apart. I wait. She hesitates, not knowing why I stopped. I wait for a few more seconds until she grabs my face in both of her hands and forces me down to meet her lips with an audible smack. Thankfully, our teeth don't knock together.

Unlike the kiss back at her apartment, we don't pull apart and there's nothing sweet about it. Our tongues are dancing, hers submitting to mine like that first night together. I back her into the wall, our lips not breaking. Removing my hand from her face, I cup her breast, squeeze where I know her nipple is and then move it to grab her ass. If I didn't have plans for this cake, I would have just let it fall to ruins so I could use both hands to grope her.

"Spend the night with me," I demand, pressing her as close to me as possible.

Between kisses, she moans, "Okay."

We are gasping when the elevator comes to a stop. With just a moment to spare straightening our clothes, the doors open. As efficient as ever, Taylor and Sawyer are standing next to the car, waiting. I give Ana a quick kiss, smiling upon noticing her red lipstick is smeared. Knowing that I probably look the same pleases me. Not bothering to try to wipe it off, I just take her hand and lead her to the SUV.

"Sir," Taylor reports when we are closer. "It was leaked you were on a date. Paparazzi are just beginning to arrive."

"How the fuck did that get out?" I exclaim, startling Ana with the sudden outburst. I try to smile apologetically, but it comes out twisted. She looks at me concerned and confused. "Were we photographed entering?"

"Now, I don't believe so, sir." Taylor pauses. "Reynolds just messaged that nine photographers are at Escala and he predicts more."

"Fuck." I can't make Ana go through that. The moment they have her face, they'll get her name, and then start hounding her. I can't have those leeches scaring her away from me.

"Why would the paparazzi care about you being on a date, Christian?" Ana asks, still confused.

Sighing, I reply, "I can't answer that because I myself don't see the fascination. I'm a very _well off_ business man. I've never publicly dated anyone so I imagine this is a breaking news to them."

"Are you famous?" She asks, alarmed.

"I'm not a celebrity but I am well-known in and around Seattle."

I open Ana's door for her while Taylor starts the vehicle. Sawyer stands behind me while holding the cake, then closes my door as soon as I'm in. Although he probably guessing that I'd planned to take Ana to Escala, Taylor still asks, "Are we dropping Ms. Steele off, sir?"

 _Good question, Taylor_ , I think. Seeing that she doesn't fully understand what her going back to Escala might mean, I explain. "Ana, there are going to be people at my place waiting for a picture of us. More likely than not, they'll find out who you are and start harassing you. Do you want to come with me still? I want you to spend the night, but I don't want you to be hounded when they find out what's your name, address, and place of work."

She's quiet, sneaking glances to the security up front while blushing. After a beat, she says, "I want to be with you, too." Ana turns her gaze to me. "We can go back to my place. It's not a penthouse, but they won't know we're there."

Her place? Surprised, I think of the scenarios. She comes to Escala with me, and the possibility that they'll begin to hound her after. She goes home, and I go to Escala; I get hounded and no sex. Or I go spend the night with her, no hounding and I get sex. I think there's a clear winner here.

"Taylor, Ms. Steele's place."

* * *

 _A/N: I got my information regarding lunch regulations online, so if my information is off please don't attack me._

 _Hope you all enjoyed. As always, thanks to everyone that has favorite-d, followed, and reviewed :)_


	7. Chocolate Cake

_Disclaimer: I do not own the FSOG Trilogy_

 _Author's note at the bottom. Until you get there, enjoy ;)_

* * *

Chocolate cake is my favorite dessert. Since I was a child living with the crack whore and then transitioning to a Grey, all throughout my fucked up teen years and now as an adult, chocolate cake has always been the most delicious dessert I've tasted. I couldn't think that there could ever be anything that tasted better.

How fucking wrong was I?

"Christian!" Ana moans, her fingers tangling in my hair and trying to push my face further down on her pussy. I have her thighs wide for me as I suck on the chocolate frosting I'd smeared over her clit and opening. To give her an idea of how swell chocolate and her taste together, I thrust the fingers I'd used to smear the desert on her into her open mouth. She groans and starts sucking eagerly.

Ana sits at the edge of her bed while I'm kneeling on her carpeted floor. Her dress and heels had come off seconds after we shut her front door. I'm shirtless and still have my pants and shoes on. Her legs are spread wide on my shoulders and I'm restless just imagining when I'll be having them wrapped around my hips. Of course, she needs to come a few times before that happens. I was brought up to be a gentleman.

As I finish licking off the last of the frosting on her, Ana cries out around my fingers, "Christian! I'm coming!" Her thighs clamp around my head as her climax comes. I feel as if she were pulling my hair from my roots, but I don't care. I continue to suck on her clit as she convulses around me. I rub my cock harshly through my pants with my free hand to try to ease the tension, but the sharp pain of Ana's teeth digging into my fingers makes it difficult. I groan against her pussy just as she is beginning to calm down.

Satisfied that I'd made her come in less than a minute, I retract my hand from Ana's mouth and lift my head. Ana is breathing hard; her beautiful blue eyes are squeezed shut. Her hands haven't left my hair. Knowing that I'd come like a teenager should I enter her now, I decide to let her have another orgasm while I tug one out. Admiring her heaving tits just above my face, I reach out beside Ana to the plate that holds a single slice of the chocolate cake. I dip my fingers and scoop out frosting and cake. I rise slightly from my position and smear the dessert all over her chest and nipples. Quickly, I release my cock from the confines of my pants and start jerking my hand up and down. With some tension easing, I wrap my free arm around Ana's tiny waist and bring her chest down to my lips.

"Oh, Christian," Ana sighs as I attack her tits with my mouth. "I want you inside me now." When I don't respond, she repeats breathily, "I want you inside me, damn it." To appease her, I release my cock and shove my fingers in her. Fuck, I'm unquestionably going to come like a fucking adolescent that first discovers his cock.

"Christian," Ana moans, "you know that's not what I meant. Oh, fuck." She keeps moaning and starts to thrust her hips against my hand.

Releasing a nipple from my mouth, I say, "That doesn't sound like a complaint."

Breathily, she responds, "I like your fingers just fine, but I'd prefer your huge cock." Her hands in my hair, she tugs my face upward and lands a hot, open-mouthed kiss on me. After wrapping an arm around my neck to keep me in place—she's so cute—she attempts to yank my fingers out of her, but I stay put. "Please, Christian," she begs against my mouth after a few moments.

Oh, fuck it. By the way she's clenching my fingers, I'd say she was seconds from coming. Anyways, we have all night.

I remove my fingers and pull away from her. Ana is panting and shaking. I rise to my feet as she gives me a toothy, satisfied smile. _What a brat_ , I think fondly. I remove my trousers, shoes, and socks in record time. Ana eyes my cock with her bottom lip between her teeth. She scoots her bottom to the center of her tiny bed and lays back, leaving her thighs parted for me. Too horny to be mindful of my less than graceful movements, I pounce on her in one second. I pound into her tight warmth the next. A loud moan leaves me as I instantly set an unforgiving pace. Ana's hands are gripping my shoulders so hard, I know her nails will leave imprints that I will admire for days.

What is it about Ana that I'll allow her this close to me, so unrestrained and free? I'm supporting myself on my elbows, each on either side of her head as she buries her face into my neck. Her breaths are hot on my skin. Her cake-covered nipples rub roughly against my chest as her legs wrap around my hips. Her moans are so loud I'm sure her neighbors are getting quite the earful. All of this, this scene, is the most pleasurable moment of my life. Desire is hot in my veins as I drive in and out of her rapidly, allowing moans of my own to escape.

My orgasm is very close, but I don't want to come before Ana. I angle my hips and start to thrust against her G-spot. I know I found it when her moans become louder with my name being nearly screamed out. Feeling Ana beginning to clench tightly around me, I let go, calling out her name. I thrust into her sloppily a few times before I ejaculate deep into her as she comes.

"Christian!"

"Ana!"

I collapse on top of her, exhausted, but nowhere near done. I breathe in deeply and exhale into her tangled hair. Perhaps I should offer to brush and braid it for her before engaging in sex again. Ana releases her death grip on my shoulders. The sting from the damage her nails caused is felt.

"Sorry," Ana breathes while relocating her hands to my sides. She begins pushing on me slightly. "You're really heavy."

Taking that as my cue, I slip out of her and roll onto my back. Ana twists to her side, rests her head on my chest, and places her hand on my stomach. No pain or discomfort. It's as if she were created to fit against me perfectly, for only me. I wonder if my feelings for Anastasia are growing too fast. Does she feel the same way? Perhaps my sudden attachment towards her is stemmed from my never having a normal fling. For the first time in my life, I feel my age. I'm doing what I should be doing—one night stands, dates, sex with a beautiful woman that is spontaneous and hot. Of course, it's all with the same woman, though it feels right. Am I simply in lust with her? That might be it, but then why do I care if her days are spent good, if she gets home safely, and want to beat that ass of a boss of hers for forcing her without food? Is she as puzzled as me?

I take notice of my arm wrapped securely around her, keeping her tight to my side, and my fingers playing with hers on my stomach. Is having one night stands and cuddling with someone she barely knows a part of her normal? She is young, at that age where the world—and men—are at her pleasure. Also, coming from a heterosexual man with a high sex drive who sees beautiful women daily, Ana is the epitome of natural beauty whilst being kind and sweet. I have no doubts men and quite possibly a few women throw themselves at her on a regular basis. The question being: Does she let them in? I've gathered that she is friendly and open. I know she's quite experienced with sexual activities, but how many men has she experienced? It better not be a high number that'll give me the urge to take a shower. It's extremely hypercritical of me to think, but I can't help being possessive. Thinking back, she does seem a bit wide-eyed, giving off a sort of _eagerness_ that I've never experienced with knowledgeable subs. So maybe she isn't a slut. But maybe that's how she acts during sex, so I can't be wholly certain. Would it be totally inappropriate of me to ask her?

I clear my throat. "How many sexual partners have you've had, Ana?" _Please, for the sake of my sanity and your ex-lovers' lives, do not say a high number._

"Um—wh—what?" She stammers.

 _Holy fuck, it's going to be a high number._ I take a discreet deep breath, pause to mentally prepare myself, and repeat, "How many sexual partners have you've had?"

She pulls away from me, and I let her go. "Why?"

"Just . . ." I trail off. Ana sits up and uses a pink blanket to cover her breasts. I sit up, too, scrambling for a better reason than _to make sure you aren't a slut_. "We aren't using protection, now or the first time we got together."

"I'm on birth control. I told you this already."

"You did, and I told you I was clean. I haven't been with anyone since you." Ana looks at me dumbfounded. Yeah, we should have had this discussion before fucking again, but the animals in us took control.

"I haven't been with anyone since you either. You don't have to worry." The uncomfortable expression on her face dissipates. "We're good."

There's an awkward pause until I prompt her again. "So, how many men have you been with?"

She rolls her eyes. "Do that again, and I'll take you across my knee," I warn.

"Promise?" She asks sweetly. Surprising me, Ana leans over and kisses me. After a second, she pulls back and whispers, "You've already threatened me with a spanking, but I think you're full of it." Ana drops her cover and climbs to sit on my lap with her knees on both sides of me. I feel her warmth pressed against me. I give into her for a moment, kissing her back with abandon. Maybe I'll get my answer this way.

I palm her breast and trail my other hand down to her ass. Feeling the frosting and crumbles on her nipple, I say, "Looks like I forgot to lick this off." My lips break from hers and travel down her neck, her collarbone, and finally her breasts. She rises on her knees to give me better access. I start cleaning her skin free of our dessert as my hands massage her ass. Her breathing gets heavy, so I move my fingers to her core from behind. I lightly, teasingly, skim her rosebud on my way. My sucking her nipples and caressing her swollen, wet folds have her quietly moaning quickly.

"Oh, God, Christian," she cries as I flick her clit.

"How many men have enjoyed this body, Sunshine?" She takes long to answer so I circle her opening, slightly pushing my index fingers in and pulling out. "Tell me how many."

Ana lets out a groan. "You honestly want to know?"

I bite her nipple gently, and she jerks her hips. "Yes. Tell me now."

She draws in a deep breath and says, "Two."

I pull back to look at her face, but her eyes are closed shut in pleasure. "Excluding me?" I ask, shocked. She shakes her head no. "Just me and some other guy?"

"Mmmhmmm," she mutters. "Were you expecting a large number?"

"Well, yeah." I go back to feasting on her breasts. "You're sure? Just two?"

She laughs, then moans as I insert my index fingers into her. "Pretty sure, but there was a close call with there being a third."

"Why not a third?"

"She didn't get past second base."

 _What the fuck?_ "There was a 'she,'" I ask, incredulous, and a tad turned on.

"Almost." Ana rocks her hips against my still fingers. "We were interrupted." With that, she grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs my face to hers.

Conversation on hold—not forgotten—we make out. I'm not quite ready for sex again so I speed up my fingers. Ana moans against my mouth, then she pulls away to look me in the eyes. Holy fuck, I never knew seeing another person's eyes when they're so close to climax can be such a turn on. My cock stirs and hardens a bit, though not where I'd like it to be. Ana is humping my hands harshly, setting the rhythm she wants from me. I briefly ponder if there will ever be a time where I'll be able to make love. Looking at this goddess in my lap, however, I think the time will be soon.

Not tonight, but soon.

"Ah," Ana gasps, her blue eyes locked on mine. Her pussy tightens around my fingers as her climax takes her over. It's short but powerful. She breaks eye contact to throw her head back. After placing wet kisses on her exposed neck and collarbones, I withdraw my fingers. She's still quivering in my arms, and her breaths are uneven. Slowly, I recline with her in my arms until I'm lying on my back. I press a soft kiss on the top of her head, relaxed. Well, I still have a half-hard-on though it's hardly unbearable. My lust is curbed for now till I'm at full mast. We can relax for now.

Soon after, Ana's breathing is under control and she snuggles in my arms, still on top of me with her face towards me. I'm pleased that she's only ever been with me and some other dick—and almost a woman. Yes, it's shameful of me to have thought of her as a slut considering I'm. . . me. Still, I'm not special like she is. She deserves to be worshipped and admired; I don't. I hope the dick before me treated her right during sex and not a beast just looking for anywhere to stick his cock into. "So, tell me about that other guy," I say, throwing my arm behind my head for support as I gaze down at her pretty face.

Her eyes are closed, but her brow lifts in question. "What about him?"

"Whatever you want to tell me." I finger the tips of her hair at the small of her back. "Was he your boyfriend?"

"Um, kind of. We really didn't think of it like that."

"So, how was it?" I ask, confused and intrigued.

Ana is quiet for a second. "We just . . . were," she answers vaguely.

"Like friends with benefits?"

"Not really, I don't think."

How can she not know? Considering this jerk took her virginity, she was probably naïve when their relations began. I hope this prick didn't take advantage of her. I'll kick his ass if he did. "Were you exclusive to each other?" I dig.

"Yes," she says off the bat; no hesitation, no uncertainty.

"And you didn't define yourselves as in a relationship?"

"Not like that. I mean, we were together, but we didn't put a name to what we were. I was his, and he was mine."

"Sounds serious." I'm starting to not like that she was with only one other man. I think I would have preferred a dozen of meaningless fuck buddies than one man she was serious with. "How long did it last? When did it end?"

"Well, um, it ended about three months ago, almost four." She takes a pause and answers quickly. "We were together close to seven years."

"Wait, were you high school sweethearts or something. You would have to be around sixteen, right?" Oh, alright. A teenage romance isn't bad. Most _normal_ people had those.

"I'd just turned fifteen."

"How adorable," I mock playfully. "Even as you were becoming a woman. You already had guys swooning over you." I laugh. It's too bad we didn't go to the same high school. I couldn't imagine the downward spiral that would have been my life if Elena hadn't interfered, but I still wonder.

Ana tries to laugh, but it sounds forced. "I don't know about that. I was a complete dork back then."

"So how did you guys get together?"

A fond smile graces her face. "He found me crying behind the public library. I was hiding there because of some mean girls at my school. He dried my tears and held me in his arms. After I calmed down, he took me home, we had a long talk about our feelings, and we decided to be together."

I feel a tad annoyed seeing that smile reserved for another man. Will she think of me fondly when we eventually part ways? "Did you already know him?"

"Yeah, I'd known him since I was thirteen. I always had the biggest crush on him."

"So what happened? Why break things off if it lasted seven years?"

"We had a pregnancy scare last year. I missed a period and freaked out."

"Was he an asshole to you?"

"Not entirely. Some years back, without my knowledge, he had a vasectomy. He apparently didn't want to share me in the future. When he told me I couldn't be pregnant because of that, I was furious and we fought. We tried to stay together, but I decided that he couldn't give me what I needed any more."

"When you say that, you mean he couldn't give you children." Damn. At least now I'm certain he won't be able to woo her back.

"I don't want kids right now. I'm only twenty-two, but eventually, yeah. I want to be a mother." She scoffs, and I swear I can hear her eyes rolling. "He told me if we were going to stay together, I needed to let go of that dream because my attention should only be on him."

I rub my hand up and down her back soothingly. "The man is an idiot for giving you that ultimatum. He doesn't deserve you."

Ana opens her eyes and meets mine. "I think I'm beginning to see that. I just wish he'd leave me the hell alone."

Alarmed by her comment, I ask, "What?"

"He still demands my attention. He calls me like ten times a day and insists that just because we aren't together anymore, doesn't mean we should stop fucking."

"He's harassing you?" Why the fuck hasn't Sawyer reported anything? Anger begins to cloud my vision. "Change your number. Does he know you live here?"

"Of course he knows where I live. He helped me pick it." Fuck. I lift her off me and set her down gently. Then, I get off the bed and make my way to her living room to locate my discarded suit jacket. "Wait! Christian, you're overreacting." I hear Ana's bed creak as she gets off.

"You said he's been calling nonstop every fucking day." In her living room, I survey the room but see only her dress and shoes, and my shirt. "Has he been here since you broke up with him?" She fails to respond. I turn around and find her standing just a few feet away from me, still completely naked. "Ana. Has he come here to harass you?" I finally spy my suit jacket laying in a crumpled heap near her gray loveseat. I bend over her coffee table to get it.

As I fish through the pockets in search of my phone, Ana admits, "I wouldn't call it harassment, but he does come here a lot."

"Not harassment? What the hell do you call it?" I snap at her. My phone in my hand, I sent off a text to Sawyer, informing him that he will now act as Ana's CPO.

"Oh my God, Christian," Ana whines, "he can be a little invasive and impulsive, but he's harmless. He's always been like that. There isn't anything for you to worry about. He's just heartbroken, and I'm the only—friend he has." She grips my chin and tugs it until I'm staring at her. "He'll never harm me, Christian. Trust me when I say that."

I look her up and down. Her apartment building has no security, whatsoever. She is a tiny woman, could easily be overpowered. With how sweet and beautiful she is, I don't blame the guy for going crazy on her. "Fine," I sigh, feigning defeat. I sent another text to Sawyer to remind him to be especially unseen where she's concerned. She mustn't catch on to Sawyer actually following her steps to prevent harm from touching her.

"Thank you," Ana hugs me briefly. "What were you planning on doing anyway?"

"Uh, call the police," I mumble, unintelligently. I set my phone down on her coffee table after seeing Sawyer confirm.

Ana laughs. "I don't think there would be much they could do if nobody has been harmed."

"Maybe I have more faith in our police force than you," I say, putting my hands on her waist.

She smiles, goes on her tiptoes and rubs her nose against mine. "You know, we never finished with dessert." My deflated cock comes back to life when she pulls on my chest hairs.

"I don't think so, Sunshine. I ate my dessert twice." I press my lips to hers, my tongue tangling with hers.

She pulls away long enough to say, "Bed." I grab her perky rear, squeeze hard once, and lift her into my arms. Her legs wrap around me immediately. In her room, before I have a chance to set her on the bed, she pulls away slightly and orders me to sit. Turned on by this little thing bossing me around, I obey without hesitation. Ana jumps up and off my lap and stands between my legs. She reaches for the half-eaten piece of cake—amazingly, it's still on the bed—and I trap her nipple between my lips.

"Oh no you don't, Pumpkin," Ana lightly admonishes me, "It's my turn for dessert."

Curious about how she'll do this, I watch her grab a fistful of cake and then smears it all over my pecs and abs. She shoves me, and I allow myself to fall back. Sitting on my thighs, Ana steals a quick kiss. I try to grab her head to hold her to me, but she tsk's. Grabbing my hands, she places them over my head and orders, "Keep them here."

 _Why the fuck is that so hot?_ My cock is at full attention, banging against her thighs as she leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down my neck to my chest. I clench my fists when she begins to suck off the dessert. My hips thrust up when she sucks at my nipples. _Ah, fuck!_ I didn't know how much pleasure having my nipples teased could bring me. It's fucking electrifying. What's so special about her? Ana continues sucking her way down my torso; to my disappointment, she ate the cake fast on my chest. She makes work of the smeared chocolate on my abs, and while that in itself is a pleasure, I almost want to pull her back up to my nipples.

A sudden grip on my cock has me abandoning that urge. I look down to Ana licking frosting off my abs and spy her arm between our sticky bodies. Her grasp on me is firm, and her movements are slow. I feel my precum leak out and drip down to her fingers. I see her clean hand holding her hair to one side of her neck; her other one, the one she used to spread the chocolate cake on me, is wrapped around my length. I breathe in and out deeply in an attempt to calm myself, holding back my moans and groans.

That goes to shit, though, when Ana leaves my licked-clean stomach and licks my tip. I thrust upwards. Damn it, I want to bring my hands down and bury them in her soft hair. I expect her to take me in her mouth, but she surprises me by instead sucking up and down my length. She was just cleaning the mess of frosting and crumbs her hand made. I grunt my displeasure, and she smirks against my skin.

Ana winks at me, and I narrow my eyes at her. I'll decide her punishment for later, not now as she starts to fondle my balls. Fuck. I thrust my dick at her face and freeze when she bares her teeth. She doesn't bite me, but the threat was clear. By the time Ana finishes sucking off the dessert from my cock, my muscles are stiff from fighting off the impulse to throw her on the bed and fuck her into next week. My cock is painfully hard.

"Fucking hell, Ana," I sigh.

"What?" She asks, batting her eyelashes at me. "I was just cleaning you."

"That's not funny."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you hoping for something else?"

I glare playfully at her so she knows I'm only teasing. "No shit." I thrust my hips slightly. "I was hoping to feel your lips around my cock as you deep-throat me."

Her eyes filled with mirth and arousal, she says, "Well, why didn't you say so?" My cock is deep in her mouth in an instant.

I throw my head back down and close my eyes, savoring the touch of her tongue and lips as she sucks me up and down. "Fuck," I moan. "Holy fuck!" An impressive amount of my cock disappears into her mouth and my tip hits the back of her throat. Ana inhales through her nose and then swallows. I give in and bring my arms from where she indicated to tangle my fingers in her hair as I push upwards slowly.

Ana pulls away from my cock promptly. "Ana," I whine, sounding pathetic in my own ears. She doesn't say anything in return.

Instead, she climbs up my body until her wet pussy is directly above my cock. After positioning my tip to her center, she slams down and rides the ever-loving fuck out of me. I let her take the lead again and set the pace. After all, I've already had my turn fucking her. She balances by keeping her hands on my chest. My hands are clamped hard on her hips. I gaze at Ana, taking her all in. Blue eyes are closed, mouth wide open in an _O_ shape, chocolate brown hair thrown over one creamy white shoulder, and muscles in her abdomen and legs flexing as she moves up and down. Desire is a fire under my skin, even more so on the places her body meets mine. Our cries of pleasure are loud to my ears, and I do believe her bed frame is knocking against the wall.

"Christian, I'm close," Ana moans, her motions becoming erratic.

I groan, "Come, Ana." My hips thrust up roughly, and she claws at my chest. I thrust up four more times while bringing her down hard on my cock. She lets out a scream as she reaches her orgasm. I follow suit, releasing myself into her again.

After a moment of catching our breaths, I become aware of our mixed arousals dripping out of her to drip down my balls. I twitch at the unusual but pleasant feeling. Ana rests her forehead on mine, her breathing still not in control. "Oh my God," she breathes, "I'm going to walk funny tomorrow."

I laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment." I sit up, causing Ana to rise and move off me.

"You can just don't let it go to your head." Ana stands and wobbles like a newborn deer. "I could use a shower. I feel really sticky."

I gather her in a hug from behind and press my lips to the top of her head. "Shower sex sounds fantastic."

"That'll be a first, but my shower is way to small to accommodate the both of us," she giggles.

I step away from her and say, "Ladies first, then. Don't use all the warm water." I watch as she limps out of her room, admiring the red marks my fingers left on her ass and hips. Then I peek at my chest and find several raw-looking scratches. I smile to myself. These are going to be fun to look at during the week.

The shower comes on, and I decide to tidy up Ana's bed while I wait my turn.

The dirty plate goes into her sink, and the remaining bits of cake go into my stomach. I place the rest of the dessert in a glass container I found in the cupboards. Back in her bedroom, I peel off the soiled sheets and—not knowing where she normally puts dirty bed linens—leave it as neatly as I could in a pile in the corner of her room. After, I hunt around her closet, find black satin sheets and make the bed. Not perfectly, but we are just going to go to sleep. Done with that, I gather our clothes from the living room and toss them into the hamper tucked neatly in her closet.

Straightening up took me about ten minutes. Ana is still in the shower. I'd have been splashing on aftershave cream to my face already. Another ten minutes pass when she emerges with a purple robe on and a white towel wrapped around her hair.

She makes a dramatic sweep of her arm and says, "It's all yours." Unlike her, I finish in five. It was an experience. I don't recall that I've ever used such a small shower before. I had to bend nearly double to fit under the showerhead. I also used her body wash and, I must admit, it smells better than mine.

I come out with a white towel wrapped around my waist and come across Ana furiously brushing her knotted wet hair while sitting on her bed. The adorable glare is back. Before she can injure herself, I say, "Give me that brush before you end up bald."

"That isn't funny," she sulks. "Every time I freaking shower, I think I pull out half my hair trying to get rid of the knots." She winces when the brush's bristle and caught in a tangle.

"Let me help." I sit behind her and inhale her sweet scent. She hands it over without a word. I divide her hair and begin to carefully brush through. In no time at all, her hair is knot-free.

Ana turns around to face me and runs her fingers through her hair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I kiss her nose. "You should blow dry it before you get sick. It's chilly in here."

She takes the brush from me and tosses it to the empty chair in front of her vanity mirror. "And end up with more knots? No, thank you."

"Ana," I scold lightly, "I don't want you to get cold."

"Okay, how about I turn the heat up?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Fine."

"Oh goodness, Mr. Grey. I should take _you_ over my knee," Ana laughs as she walks out of her room. A few loud beeps later, and she walks back in.

"Careful, Sunshine," I warn her. She ignores me, shucking off her robe and climbing under the covers.

"Hit the lights, please. I'm exhausted."

* * *

 _A/N:_ _I want to take a moment to thank the guest who brought up to my attention that Ana confused her salmon for tasting like chicken. I don't know how I made that mistake, but I laughed when you pointed it out. Thank you :)_

 _Some of you had questions about the Elena/Christian and Cason/Ana situation, so let me answer._

 _In regards to Elena's role, she will become a part of the story—Sorry!—within a few chapters._

 _When Christian does find out about Cason and his relationship/obsession with Ana, it will be a shock. And we all know how he tends to go thermo-nuclear. *hint, hint*_

 _If you have any more questions, feel free to either PM me or review. I'll do my best to answer :) Again, thanks to all who have faved, reviewed, and followed!_

 _I would like to conclude this somewhat long A/N with a warning. Coating the vagina with foods high in sugar like chocolate frosting is a big no-no, apparently. I investigated online (don't judge, I was curious) and sugar can "mess with your pH levels and lead to a yeast infection." I'd already written the first part of the chapter and didn't want to change it. For the sake of this being a fictional story, let's just pretend that this isn't true. But please, in real life, stay safe and clean ladies :)_


	8. Good Night's Sleep, Or Not

**DISCLAIMER: FSOG TRILOGY NOT MINE!**

 **APOV**

I wake to the loud sound of a cell phone ringing. The generic tone was certainly not mine. Beside my ear, Christian groans, his breath shifting my hair into my face. His arm tightens around my waist. His damn phone is still ringing. I try to escape the noise by bringing my comforter up to my ears and squeezing my eyes shut. The ringing, though, muted, is still too loud to ignore. I think Christian is hiding from the noise by burrowing his head between my neck and shoulder.

His phone rings and rings. After the ringtone completes, his phone lets out a beep to notify a missed call. We sigh in relief and settle more comfortably against each other, my back to his front. Then, his stupid phone goes off again.

"Answer it," I grumble to Christian. He tightens his arm around me. I kick back at his shin. "Answer it before I kick you out," I threaten. It may be harsh, but I need to sleep, damn it.

He lets out a sound of annoyance but unwraps me from his arms. I bury my face into my pillow as he untangles himself from our nest of covers. The phone stops ringing, followed by another beep. I sense Christian hesitate for a beat, and the phone rings again. He groans as I open my eyes. I turn onto my back, eyeing his dark silhouette kneeling on my bed. The only light in my room is that of his ringing phone on my nightstand on his side of the bed.

Christian grabs his phone, looks over the caller I.D., and growls. He answers, barking out, "What the fuck, Mia? It's after two in the fucking morning!" _Mia?_ Oh, right; he mentioned her during our date.

Even though Christian doesn't have it on speaker, I hear a woman with a very high-pitched, shrill voice scream out, "I'm at your club with my friends! You remember Lily and her sister, Beverly, right? Their mom tried to get our mom to hook you up with one of them?"

"Mia," Christian growls, "if this isn't an emergency, I'm hanging up. For the last fucking time, don't call me after midnight every time you want to scream in my ear about some friend you want me to take on a date. It'll never happen!"

Mia shouts, "Wait, no! I'm calling because Bev was having dinner with her flavor of the week _and_ she swears up and down she saw you there, at the restaurant, I mean. With a really pretty girl, like a date! I told her that wasn't true because you're gay and whoever you were dining with was probably a work associate or whatever. But she just showed me a picture she took of you guys holding hands across the table and— _what_?" There's a pause, I presume someone took her attention elsewhere. "Oh, right! You are all googly-eyed over her! I swear, it looks as if your eyes are sparkling! And oh, my God! She's not looking at you, but you're smiling at her like you're seeing the sun for the first time! It's such a cute picture. Bev, send that to me. I need to show my mom."

My eyes are wide. Damn, his sister sure can talk a mile a second.

"Wait, Mia!" Christian shouts, startling me. "Don't send or tell Mom anything."

"Why not? You know she'll die when she finds out you were on a date. How did it go, by the way? Did you kiss her when you walked her to her door? Did you bring her flowers? Are you taking her out again? If you really want to impress her, take her out on the Grace. She'll die when she sees it. No, no, no, it's freaking cold. Oh, take her out on Charlie Tango. No, take her shopping! She'll never leave you!"

Christian pinches the bridge of his nose. Throughout his sister's spiel, he'd returned to lying on his back and cuddling me to his side. As Mia prattles on about which stores to take me, I ask, "What's a Charlie Tango?"

A scream pierces through the other side of the call, causing Christian to remove his phone from his ear and wince. "She's with you? Oh, my God, I am so telling Mom! You're spending the night together! So tonight, it wasn't the first date? Why didn't you tell me you were serious with someone? Oh, my God, let me talk to her. She must be a saint to put up with you! Put me on speaker!"

"I don't need to. She can you loud and clear. Please, Mia, we were sleeping. I'll call you later. I'm hanging up, and I want you to go straight home. Prescott is nearby, right? Have her drive you home."

Mia whines, "No, please don't go all big brother on me. I've had only two shots and a glass of wine. I'm not even drunk."

"Mia, go home, or else you'll be the last to meet Ana."

Like a bouncing ball, Mia comes back up. "Her name is Ana? That's so pretty. I'll leave, but you better swear I'll be the first one meeting her. Otherwise, no deal."

"Fine, deal. Now leave with Prescott. Good night, Mia," Christian says.

"Great! Good night, Christian and Ana! Pleasant dreams! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She finishes the call by smacking a kiss though our connection.

A moment of silence follows. In complete darkness again, I can't see Christian well. As my eyes adjust, I faintly begin to make out Christian messaging his forehead with one hand. I giggle.

"Don't," he mumbles. "That girl is a piece of work. I love her, but fuck she is annoying."

"Consider yourself lucky. I was an only child. I always wanted a sister or brother who'd I'd want to kill and can always count on."

He chuckles and rolls on his side to face me. "Want mine? I'm more than happy to gift them to you." He leans closer, and I welcome his gentle kiss. However, Christian becomes excited, and I feel him growing against my thigh.

I pull away. "I'm really sleepy, so I'm not in the mood," I say firmly, hoping he won't get upset. I peck his cheek to soften my rejection.

"Mmmm," he murmurs, and pulls back. "Okay, morning it is then." Christian slides his arm underneath my head and tugs me to him until my head is resting on his chest. I release the breath I didn't know I was holding in relief and disbelief. My eyes burn a little.

"Really?" I ask, hating how small and squeaky my voice comes out.

Christian tightens his hold on me. "If you don't want to, I can't force you."

"Oh." I sniffle. Why am I so relieved and grateful? Why are my eyes welling up? He said it was fine if we didn't. _Because Case always got upset._ I shove that thought out of my head as fast as it entered. _Don't go there. . ._

"Truly, Sunshine," Christian says with a yawn. I yawn, too, and smile. "Go to sleep. We have plans tomorrow, or later, I guess. You're going to need your beauty sleep to keep up."

"Plans? Since when?"

"Since my annoying sister gave me an idea. Sweet dreams." He gives me a final kiss on the top of my head. I close my eyes, cuddle into him, and feel myself drift off.

 **CPOV**

I growl deep in my throat. In my arms, Ana grumbles. My fucking cellphone is ringing again! God, damn it, I swear if it's Mia or Mom, I'm withdrawing Mia's monthly allowance for a fucking year.

"If people calling you in the middle of the freaking night is a regular occurrence, you can be damn sure this is the last time I'm sleeping with you," my little ray sunshine hisses. Despite my indignation with the caller, my sleepyhead brings a smile to my face.

I rise carefully and roll Miss Grumpy onto her back. "Calm your ass down," I say without threat and wipe away a bit of drool from where her mouth was on my chest. "I don't like it either." I grab my still ringing phone. As an afterthought, I inform Ana, "And it doesn't happen often. Only with my siblings and security issues." As she places a pillow over her face, I check the caller I.D. and answer. "What is it, Taylor?" I sit straighter, concerned. I flick on the lamp and squint in the light.

Taylor clears his throat, a tick he has when he is uncomfortable. "Sir, I apologize for disturbing you and Ms. Steele, but I think you would be much obliged to know that Cason Westbrook just entered Ms. Steele's apartment building."

"What?" I ask, stupefied and troubled. "At this hour?" It's three in the morning! What the fuck does he want right now? Is he checking on Ana?

"Yes, Sir," Taylor answers. "I gather from your last meeting he will not take it lightly to seeing you and Ms. Steele in a—uncomfortable position."

 _That is putting it mildly._ "Thanks for the heads up. I'll handle it." I hang up and shake Ana. She mutters something unintelligible under her breath. "Ana," I say urgently, "wake up! Your foster dad is coming up."

"Who?" Ana weakly tries to smack my hands away from her.

"Your whatever-the-hell he is to you. Cason."

She springs up as soon as the words leave my mouth. Blue eyes wide open. She wipes away drool from the corner of her mouth. "What? How do you know that?"

I get out of bed and reply, "My security is parked outside and saw him walking into the building." Where the hell are my jeans? Damn it, I put them and my underwear in the hamper. I should have had Sawyer fetch me clothes earlier rather than waiting until morning.

"Why is your security here? And why do you have security?" Her need for sleep forgotten, Ana hunts down a pale gray nightgown from one of her drawers and slips it on.

As she gathers up the dirty sheets I'd placed in the corner, I rummage through her hamper for at least my underwear. _This situation is unquestionably a first for me. Hopefully, the last as next time we'll stay at my place, paparazzi or not._ "I'm a very wealthy man, Anastasia, if you haven't come to that conclusion already. I receive death threats daily." My anxiety over her deceased father's best friend finding us with our pants down is manifesting itself by snapping at her, but honestly, couldn't she have taken the time to Google me?

Ana shoves me out of her way as she throws my shoes, expensive watch, phone, and sheets into the closet. She also shoves me in, forcing me to step on her shoes and half fall in her hamper. I start to protest until she shuts her closet doors in my face while exclaiming, "Shut up!" I grunt and try to right myself. _Definitely never experience this before._ Through the little opening between the doors, I see Ana run out and then come back with a scent refresher spray in her hand. I raise my eyebrow as she sprays little spurts throughout her room, giving extra sprays in front of the closet, where I am currently hiding. God, I've never felt like such an adolescent as I do right now. The smell of sex is overpowered by the scent of roses. Unable to help myself, I smirk as she dashes out of her room anew, and I hear a few more sprays.

Suddenly, throughout her quiet apartment, I faintly make out the sound of rattling keys and the lock on the front door clicking. Ana hurries into her room and onto her bed. She flicks off the lamp. Now dark, I hear her comforter sliding and guess she's getting prepared to feign sleep.

The front door opens and closes. The sound of keys being put down on glass reaches me, and I hold my breath. Ana's breathing is slow and heavy. Given that her floor is mostly carpeted, I don't hear steps. I do see the light in the tiny hall flick on. I hear a ringing, but I think that's something only loud to my ears. A dark shadow enters Ana's bedroom. I hold my breath.

Why am I hiding in the closet? I'm not afraid—nor do I care—of this man or his opinion of me and Ana fucking. As far as he's concerned, our relationship isn't his damn concern. However, something in the way Ana dashed about her room, removing traces of me—unsettled me. Her odd behavior leads me into thinking that she is wary of this man's reaction to finding me in her apartment. What is it she suspects would happen? Would he attack me? He does seem fit, but I spar with Claude four times a week, averagely.

Cason surveys the room, reminding me of a predator. The cover over Ana rises and falls with her relaxed breathing. If I hadn't witnessed Ana running around like a chicken without its head earlier, I would think she's been sleeping peacefully all night.

I watch as Cason sits on Ana's bed. I watch as he lays down slowly and moves her hair out of her face. I watch as he whispers something too quiet for my ears to catch. I watch as he kisses her forehead. I watch for ten or fifteen minutes as he stares at Ana's "sleeping" form. I watch as he finally rises to his feet. I exhale as he makes his way out her room and turns off the hall light. I slump in unexpected relief when I hear the front door closes quietly and is locked from the other side.

Ana sits up, her gaze on her closet, at me. I fully open the Dutch doors and step out. Guessing by the bothered, practically sick-looking expression on her face that she hopes I didn't see what just happened.

"What the fuck, Ana?"

 _Author's Note: Thanks as always for the lovely reviews, faves, and follows! I hope you enjoyed the dual POVs. Let me know via review your thoughts and questions. If they are not spoilers, I'll do my best to answer :)_

 _So I watched Fifty Shades Freed on Friday, and I just loved it! It was hot, sexy, funny, and just well executed. My opinion, and I know many will not agree with me. I wish I were richer so I can watch it again:( I did think it was little rushed and some scenes in the trailer weren't shown, but I believe they'll be added when the Extended UNRATED version is out. Of course, I'll buy it like I did the first two. Sorry for gushing, but I'm the only FSOG fanatic I know and I have no one to gush to. If you've seen it, what did you think?_


	9. Opposites Attract

_**Disclaimer: Do not, repeat do not, own FSOG Trilogy!**_

 _So sorry for the long wait, but here is the next chapter. It ended up being longer than I planned. As always, big thanks to all who have fave-d, followed, and reviewed. They really help keep the story on the list to do so though I have other things to do, I'm thinking up plot bunnies that I quickly write down when I have a break._

 _Enjoy!_

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 **CPOV**

 _Like, seriously, what the actual fuck just happened?_

I am dumbfounded. The only words I can think and say are, "What the fuck, Ana?" I have no clue what else to say. Has Cason ever done that before while she was sleeping? If so, is this the first occurrence in which Ana was actually awake and pretending to be asleep? What a fucking creep! He had the audacity to just _cuddle_ up to her? Even I know that's not proper behavior for a surrogate father to display. I can't imagine my father—let alone any of his friends—doing that to Mia. It's not appropriate, period.

Ana is wide-eyed, appearing as gobsmacked as me if not a little frightened. As I was unable to locate my underwear and pants from her now messy closet, I approach her slowly and still naked. She blinks up at me as I come closer, gripping her comforter tight to her chest. I flick on her lamp and sit in front of her. Seeing her try to find solace by hiding behind her cover, I follow suit and place a pillow over my lap.

"Ana," I prod cautiously. She swallows audibly, opens her mouth, and quickly shuts it. Her eyes drop to her lap, and she bites her lower lip. Ignoring the desire to sink my teeth into her plump lip, I grip her chin delicately and firmly and bring her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes are red with unshed tears. "Oh, Sunshine," I say softly.

Ana begins to tremble. I chuck the pillow from me, then lift Ana and cradle her in my lap. She comes willingly, burrowing her face between my neck and shoulder as I wrap her comforter securely around her body. I feel warm tears dribble onto my shoulder and slide down my chest. My hold on her tightens. I allow her to cry silently and just hug her. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, I see it's fifteen minutes to four.

I'm used to crying women as most of my ex-submissives tended to become emotional after an intense playroom session, but I never held them like this or ached at their tears. It was expected of me to care for their needs, and I didn't mind it. Only with Anastasia, I don't like her crying at all. She needs to be smiling, as she's mostly done in the short period I've known her.

Her tears have dried on my skin and not feeling any new ones, I ask her, "What's running through your mind, Sunshine?"

Ana shrugs and keeps her face hidden in my neck. "A whole bunch of crap I don't want to be thinking," she whispers, her voice rough. She sniffles.

"Like. . ." I prompt.

"It's too much."

I sigh. I want to refrain from pushing her as I empathize with her need to keep her thoughts her own, but I must know so I can make it better for her. "Okay. How about you tell me one?"

She chuckles without humor. "Well, for one thing, I really wish you didn't see that."

"Sunshine, maybe it's for a good reason I did. If I hadn't been here, if we hadn't slept together, _he_ would have just come in without you being aware of it." I bring one of her hands to my face and kiss her knuckles. "To your own knowledge, has he ever done this before?" _I believe so as he just walked right in as if he owned the place, but I'll keep that to myself for now._

"I sleep like the dead. If he's ever entered the apartment, I honestly wouldn't know." She shudders and doesn't continue. She's silent again, playing with my chest hairs. _Not a bad feeling._

I ask, "What was it he said to you?"

Ana's body slumps, and she lets out a little sigh. Almost as if she were relieved. "You didn't hear him," she states softly.

"Ana, what did he tell you? Is that why you were crying?"

"What does it matter? He left." She rises from my lap, letting her cover fall.

"Ana," I say sternly, "tell me what he told you. If it is what made you upset, I want to know."

"Why?" She looks at me exasperated as she stands. I follow suit.

"Because I want to fucking know!" I yell, causing her to jump slightly in surprise and stare at me wide-eyed. "If he upset you, tell me so I can do something about it." _I am not angry with_ _her_ , I think to myself as I bite back outright ordering her to tell me.

Putting her hands on her hips, she demands, "What do you plan to do? Confront him? Fight him? Yes, he entered my apartment without my knowledge, and I do plan on talking to him about it the next time I see him, as is my right, not yours."

"Sunshine," I warn. The defiance shining brightly in her eyes says she's not backing down. Changing my tactic, I say, "I care about you. I don't like that he upset you. And there is no fucking way you are ever speaking to that perverted man again."

She had softened with the first part, but her hackles rose back up when the last sentence escaped my lips. Fuck, so close. I run my hand through my hair. Her cheeks are red, but I'd wager it was from anger, not bashfulness.

"Who the hell died and made you king? You have no say in what I do, or who I choose to talk to. If you're going to stick around, let's get one thing straight. You will never order me to do or not to do something. I had enough of that with my ex, and I will not go through that shit again with you!"

I hold both hands up in surrender. "I hear you, Ana. It's not my place, but you have to understand that I _care_ about you." I emphasize the word, "care," hoping it would defuse her sudden wrath.

She sighs and seems to deflate. "Thank you," she says softly and crosses her arms, making her ample tits lift.

Slowly, I approach her. When she doesn't protest my closeness, I wrap my arms around her and rest my chin on the top of her head. She doesn't hug me back, but she leans into my embrace. After a few minutes, I pull back, kiss her head, and guide her back to bed. Before she can lie back into her pillow, I remove her nightgown. I want to feel her skin against mine. She lets me, giving me a little smile that makes my heart beat faster. Ana grabs my face between her hands and gives me a sweet, innocent peck on the lips. When she lets go, I turn off the light and get under the covers with her.

I settle my much larger frame next to hers and cocoon her in my arms. We lie on our sides, facing each other. In the new darkness, I can only make out the shape of her face. Though I'd like to just close my eyes and fall asleep, I need to know what he told her.

"Please, Sunshine, tell me what he told you," I beg. If I'm lucky, sounding pathetic will not anger her further.

She grumbles, "You're not going to let this go, are you?" At my lack of response, she sighs. "Fine. He told me something my dad always said when he tucked me in for bed. Before he died."

"Oh!" Great, now I feel like a jerk for pushing her. "I'm sorry. You don't have to say anymore," I say lamely and sincerely.

"It's okay, Pumpkin, you meant well. I just don't like talking about it."

"That's understandable. Though, if you don't mind, why was Cason telling you that?" And how would he know?

"Um, since Dad died, Cason always looked after me. He was my father's best friend, and he's taken care of me since then." She pauses as if considering what to say next. "He's been having a hard time letting me. . .leave the nest and accept that I'm my own person."

I puzzle over that. From that first encounter with the man, it does fit that he's hesitant in letting her into the world—relationships to be specific. "So, he's like your father, now?"

Ana shivers in my arms. "No, no, no, no, no, no, _no!_ I do _not_ see him like that. I only ever had one father," she insists, sounding disgusted.

"But he must see you as a daughter, considering how much he apparently cares. Why else do that?"

I feel Ana shaking her head no against my chest. "No, no, no. I think he felt he owed my father a lot, that's why he took me under his wing."

Puzzled at her reaction, I say, "Okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Well, judging from tonight, it's not you." I jump when she jabs me in the ribs. "Perhaps I should kick you out."

Glad her humor is making a quick comeback. A little too quick, but I'm not about to pester her further about something that's obviously painful. I trail my fingertips along her belly and ribs, laughing when she squirms. "Aw, Sunshine, are you ticklish?" I nibble her ear playfully. Well, I try to, but she has so much damn hair that I just get a mouthful of it.

She giggles, trying unsuccessfully to twist away from me. "This is exactly what I was talking about."

I spit as much of her hair out of my mouth as I can but stay stuck with a few strands. I cease my tickling to yank those hairs out. Next time, I don't care how late it is, I'm braiding her hair before we go to sleep. She's still giggling when I wrap my arms around her anew. She snuggles against me and lets out a contented sigh. "Okay," she mumbles into my skin, "This is better."

"Go to sleep, Ana. We have a long day ahead of us."

 **Afternoon (Same day)**

"Christian, I can't afford anything here!" Ana hisses, trying to push me back out the door of Neiman Marcus that I dragged her in. "This isn't funny!" she snaps when I laugh out loud.

I plant my feet, and as she continues to try to move me back with her hands digging into my chest, I mockingly whisper, "You're making a scene." Immediately, she takes her hands off me and turns around to face the store. She huffs when she sees I was only joking.

"Fine!" Ana starts to walk around me, but I wrap my arms around her. Her tone changes from anger to desperation, "Please, Christian. I have rent and bills to pay."

"What are you talking about, Sunshine?" I grip her hair with one hand and pull her head back gently. At her confused expression, I add, "Don't you remember what my drunk sister told me to do?" As she racks her memory, I steal a quick kiss. "You'll never leave me?" I prompt.

I hug her tighter as it dawns on her. "Shopping? You're taking me shopping? Here?" She looks around the store as if she's never been in here before. Well, given her income, she can't even afford to window shop here. I'm surprised she can even afford her apartment.

I smile at her. Normal protocol is calling into Caroline Acton for her to pick out a wardrobe. I lead a skittish Ana by her hand further into the store slowly. With this special woman, whose best pair of heels is from JcPenny's, I want to see her reaction as I buy her at least two pairs of heels and one dress. Any more than that, she'll bolt, I have a feeling. So, I'll thrust her into the world of designer clothing slowly.

"Yup," I say proudly, as I walk us to the area where they keep the shoes. "Get whatever how many pairs you want. My treat."

She doesn't move from my side but instead shrinks into my side. Ana continues to look at the other shoppers around us. I catch one woman eyeing Ana enviously, probably having heard my statement to her. "Christian," Ana whispers into my ear after her survey, "you don't have to do this. I'm fine with flowers. Mia also mentioned flowers."

"Flowers? You want flowers?" I wrap my arm around her.

"Yes!" She exclaims eagerly. "Flowers would be lovely." Her arms wind around my waist, and she stands on her toes to plant a kiss on my jaw.

I rest my chin on the top of her head as she hugs me. "Alright. We'll stop at the florist after we finish here."

"Ugh!" Ana shoves me from her, and I back up a step as I chuckle. "I don't want you to buy me anything. I'm not that type of girl."

"There is no alternative motive, Sunshine. I want to buy you something that you'll look beautiful in because it will make me happy. Selfish of me, when you think about it. It's more for me than you."

Exasperated, she turns away from me and faces the shoes with her hands on her hips. Honestly, with the way she's glaring at the heels on display, one would think I told her no more shopping for today. Her reaction is annoying, yet I am relieved to know she isn't a gold digger. A gold digger would have been bouncing around the store with her arms loaded before I'd finished my sentence.

"Ana, you owe me. Remember this morning?" She turns to me slightly and looks puzzled. "I wanted to eat out, but you decided you wanted to cook me breakfast instead. You owe me."

"The fuck you trying to say," Ana asks, facing me fully. I know she's joking by that tiny hint of a smile. "I made you breakfast in bed with five pancakes, one omelet, and French toast. Did you lie when you said it was the best you've ever had?"

"I loved that you wanted to cook for me. And I especially loved that you loved cooking for me. It made you happy taking care of me. It will make me happy to buy you pretty things, so please let me." As I make my case, she softens, and I know I've got her.

Ana walks back to me, pulls my head down so she can kiss me too quickly, and smiles. "Okay. I'm sorry for acting like a brat."

"My brat," I say huskily. Unsurprisingly, her surrender is turning me on. She needs to find her heels and dress fast, then I going to fuck her brains out while she wears a pair. Her place or mine. Her eyes darken, but before her lips touch mine again, I demand, "Find something fast. Then it's back to your place or mine."

Ana opens her mouth in pretend shock. "What about my flowers?"

Laughing, I walk to a pair of black Louboutin's I'd like to see over my shoulders later tonight. I wasn't lying when I told her it was more for me than her. "I like these."

I'd expected her to be looking where I was, but at her lack of an answer, I turned to find her in front of boots. In her hands was a knee-length five-inch black boot. "I like these," she calls to me.

"Perfect, Sunshine. I'll be right back. I'm going to get the personal shopper."

"A what?"

"Personal shopper. The women in my family use her every time they come." At her little, "oh," I say, "Find other pairs you like. There's no limit."

As I'm walking away, I hear Ana whine, "Don't tell me that."

Normally, the moment I walk in here, which isn't often, Ms. Acton assists me immediately. Of course, normally, I'm not wearing a cap and sunglasses to hide my identity. When Sawyer dropped a change of clothes off in the morning, he informed me that the media were on high alert to find my location as I never returned home. I wanted to take Ana out shopping, and I didn't think there was much risk going to this store. The media were more likely camped at Escala waiting for me to do the walk of shame. To appease Taylor, Ryan and Reynolds are protecting Ana and myself while Taylor and Sawyer get to sleep. Currently, our CPOs were drinking coffee at a café next door.

Upon finding and greeting Ms. Acton, I instruct her to wrap up everything my girlfriend wants, including the heels I ogled. After giving her Ana's shoe-size, I walk back to Ana. She was now admiring a red pair of heels.

"I think these are cute. What do you think?" She holds up one for me to inspect.

I lean in close and whisper, "Imagine how cute they'll look around my ears."

At first, Ana is confused, but when I waggle my eyebrows at her, her eyes widen, and she giggles. "Christian!" She admonishes softly.

I shrug my shoulders unashamed. "Is that all you found?"

"Yes." Ana holds one red heel out for me to inspect. "I don't own any brightly colored heels. These will be a good start to add color to my shoe collection."

"And," I add, "they are mighty sexy." I signal to Ms. Acton to add this pair to purchase as Ana continues to admire them.

"Sexy?" Ana looks disappointed. "Crap, I wanted to wear them to work." Pouting, Ana places them back on the display. I signal to Ms. Acton to add this pair to purchase as an oblivious Ana continues to admire them wistfully. She might not wear them to work—though I don't see how a little bit of sexy is wrong—but I still want her to have them. She can wear them for me during future dates or future fucking.

"What happened to the boots you were looking at?" Ana turns her head to see the pair she'd been inspecting. "Were they not to your satisfaction?"

She bites her bottom lip, and as my pants tighten, she answers, "I loved those, but they cost over a thousand dollars. For a pair of boots!" She shakes her head. "They cost more than my car is probably worth."

"That's not a fair comparison, Sunshine. You drive a piece-of-shit car." I roll my eyes at her. Again, I signal for them to be added to purchase.

Ana pauses, faces me fully, and narrows her eyes. "How do you know that? I don't think you've ever seen my car."

I freeze, hoping to fuck all that she can't read my sudden panic. After grasping at the first excuse I can think of, I say, "Um, you told me it broke down on you yesterday."

She huffs and turns away. She rolls her eyes, but I think I can forgive that this one time. "All cars, good, bad, or piece-of-shit, break down, Christian."

Glad she's moved past my small mistake; I think it's time to look for a dress she can wear for our next date. Perhaps something new for when she meets Mia. Better yet, I do recall Andrea informing me of a gala of some schmuck I was invited to. If memory serves me correctly, the event is in three weeks. Plenty of time for Ana to find a gown.

Ana is currently scrutinizing the rest of the heels on display, most likely trying to look for a pair less than five hundred. She's getting three already, not that she's aware of it, so I decide it's time to head out. I'll let Ana choose how we finish our day together, and then go to the florist. Mental note: always give her flowers when we are on a date. Come to think of it, she probably expected it as her vase in her living room was empty, and she doesn't strike me as one to leave it as such for the sake of décor.

I signal to the personal shopper to wrap up our items. Maybe when Ana wants to look for gowns we can put Ms. Acton to actual use. As Ana continues her search for a lower priced heel, Ms. Acton brings me the bags. I thank her and call out for Ana.

Ana gives me her attention. I lift the purchased merchandise. Her eyes widen. "When did you get something?"

"When you were busy glaring at the shoes."

"What did you get?" Ana bounces over to me and tries to peek into the bags. "When did you pay?"

"Your heels, and I have an open tab here."

" _My_ heels?" She reaches inside one bag, pulls out a large box, and comments, "I didn't know you could have an open tab outside of a bar."

"I had to open one with the way my sister spends. Spoiled princess kept maxing out her credit cards."

"Wouldn't that encourage her to spend more if she knew it was straight from your back pocket?" Ana laughs, and looks inside the box. She gasps when she sees the boots. "Christian! I told you those were expensive." Her shock-filled eyes meet mine.

"Money isn't an issue for me, Sunshine. I won't let a price tag prevent you from getting what you want," I say softly and smiling. Truly, I wanted to be able to see her reaction, though her sudden awkwardness wasn't something I expected. She's lost her smile, hunched her shoulders a little, and is staring off to the side of me.

"Thank you," Ana murmurs, looking unsure of herself. She places the box inside the bag and tries to take it from me. When I hold fast, she asks, "Are we done here?" At my nod, she heads for the entrance.

Outside, I lead her to the coffee shop our CPOs are in, hoping a cup of coffee will cheer her up again. Did I come off too strongly? It didn't feel so to me, but I'm not the average. Damn me for believing Mia. Shopping seems to have had the opposite effect that I was going for. Inside the café, I hand the bags off to Ryan to take to the car. Reynolds stays seated nearby. Before this day ends, I want to have a conversation with Ana about our relationship. Though it might be ideal to wait until we are by ourselves, I want to get into her mind now before she has the chance to make a decision I won't like.

After ordering a cup of English Breakfast tea for her, black coffee for me, and two muffins, we sit at a table near Reynolds and a returned Ryan.

"Ana," I begin with nervousness, "why did you shut down on me?"

She sips her hot tea slowly and does not meet my eyes. I'd take her hand in mine but she has both wrapped around her mug. Given her posture, I believe she's somehow using her drink to hide behind. After a moment of awkward silence, she asks a question of her own. "How rich are you, Christian?"

I blink, surprised. Not comfortable saying in front of a room full of strangers, I pull out my phone, log into one of my bank accounts app, and hold it for her to see my checking account. Her mouth plops wide open at the nine digit number. When her gaze turns to me, I pull back my phone and open another checking account from another bank. After showing her the ten digit number on there, I worry slightly she might catch flies at how impossibly wide her mouth is. If we can manage to iron out this wrinkle, I will be sure to put that mouth to good use. I show her another account, and I fear she might fall out of her chair. To further illustrate my wealth, I search up my net worth on my phone. Now, Ana shuts her mouth and blinks rapidly.

"That rich," I mutter, hoping I haven't just shot myself in the foot.

"Wow," Ana breathes, more dumbfounded than amazed. "You made all that on your own?"

I put my phone in my coat's pocket. "Well, my grandfather gave me the loan to start up my business, but other than that, yes."

"That's incredible, Christian. You must have worked really hard." Ana swallows. "No wonder you were pissed when I thought you were a trust fund baby."

I grimace, remembering my appalling behavior yesterday at dinner. "Regardless that I was pissed, my behavior towards you was uncalled for. Again, I do apologize for that, Ana."

"It's forgiven." Ana takes a bite out of her muffin, mm's in response, and then asks around a full mouth, "What does your company do for you to get that rich?"

"I am an investor, and I do own clubs, restaurants, and other businesses around the country. So, a good portion of my income comes from that. To answer your question, my company deals with communications technology, eco manufacturing, and next generation farming solutions."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty."

"Wow," Ana repeats. "So how involved are you with everything? How do you handle the workload? It sounds too much for one person to handle."

"Ana," I say while trying to bite back my annoyance, "I would love to chat with you about my job some other time, but I want to focus on us for now."

"Shouldn't it be me who brings up the topic of 'us?'" Ana returns to avoiding my eyes.

Ignoring her remark, I ask again, "Why did you shut down on me? After I bought you the heels and boots?"

"How many relationships have you had, Christian?" Ana notices my anger by eyeing my hands curling into fists, and she quickly says, "I'm not avoiding your question. I'm trying to get you to understand my point of view."

Frustrated, I take off my cap and run my fingers through my hair. "What kind of relationship do you mean? Sexual or romantic?"

Her face turns into a scowl. "Um, both?"

 _Really, sweetheart?_ "Too many sexual to count, and never romantic."

Ana bobs her head up and down as if she expected as much. "Were the sexual in the same class as you?"

"Not many of them. Most were upper-middle."

"Did you buy them expensive things, too?"

"Yes, but it was empty." I take a chance and touch the back of her hand.

Ana stares at my hand grazing hers. She turns her hand over, and I grasp it softly. A few seconds pass as she mulls over what she wants to say. "I grew up in the lower working class. We weren't starving, but we didn't have the luxury of having money to spend on whatever we wanted. The money went to the necessities. Even now, the only way I can afford my apartment is because Cason pays a portion of it. I can't even afford to buy a used car to replace my piece-of-shit car. I wouldn't even be able to afford the maintenance of my car if my friend's father wasn't a mechanic and gives me a family friend fifty percent off discount." Ana smiles slightly. "Thank you, truly, for your consideration. I just don't know what to do with you wanting to buy me expensive things. It's sweet, but I'm used to counting pennies and making sure what I'm getting is needed."

Ana squirms in her seat and holds my hand tightly. Her cheeks are red with embarrassment. I'm sure that was hard for her to say to me, especially how I went and showed her just how filthy stinking rich I am. "I think I can understand that, Sunshine." Lord knows I wouldn't know how to count pennies and only buy the necessary things.

She breathes deeply. "In the risk of sounding like a cliché, we come from two different worlds, Christian."

"So?" I hold fast to both of her hands in both of mine now. Never have I imagined it would be my wealth that repels someone I wanted to have a romantic relationship with—or any relationship.

"So, if we are too different, we won't last."

"I believe I've heard the saying opposites attract."

"Christian, think about it. Your family are going to think I'm not good enough for you. And because apparently, you're famous in Seattle, the media will paint me as a gold digger."

"Okay, point taken," I say, knowing I shouldn't make promises of approval and positive media. "But what about what I feel for you? I've never felt so comfortable before."

"Comfortable? Like old sneakers?"

I wince and shake my head. "What I mean is that everything feels right with you. I've never had this connection with another person as I do with you, and I only met you weeks ago! This is out of the norm for me, but I know if I don't try, if we end this so early now, I'll regret it." I wait, gauging her reaction to my declaration. What was meant to only be about sex has done a one-eighty. No one can be more surprised than me.

Ana's eyes are taking me all in. Her hands are soft and warm in mine. I'm aware we are in a full coffee shop, but I can't concern myself with that. What was meant to be a fun day out shopping has morphed into me baring myself open to a woman I've only met a handful of times. Is this physical, yes, but this has the potential for more and I'm more than willing to try.

Finally, Ana simply says, "Okay. We'll try."

 **Sawyer POV (six days later)**

As he sat in a black Audi SUV—the standard for security employed by Grey—Luke Sawyer waited for his boss's boss's girlfriend to come down from her apartment, get into her piece of shit can't-believe-it's-still-running vehicle, and drive to work. He has been tailing her since the Monday after she and Grey hooked up. He didn't mind when he was assigned to watching her every move; she was hot as hell, and it got him out of the office for fresh air. He didn't know her personally, but after watching her for weeks, he's concluded that she could do better than his boss. Sure, the man was in the elite, and he wasn't hard to stare at—even he as a heterosexual man can admit that. There was a sort of light that surrounds her, and she has a sweet smile. Sawyer didn't want to be around when Grey eventually breaks her heart; he's developed a soft spot for her.

Five minutes after the dot, per her usual, Sawyer spotted Ms. Steele hurrying to her car. As he smiled slightly at her struggle with opening her car door with three thick manuscripts, her purse, and an apple in her mouth, Sawyer started the engine. Moments after, she was off on her way to work with him following a car behind. At a red light, the SUV's Bluetooth announced an incoming call from Taylor.

"Behind Ms. Steele," Sawyer said as a greeting. "In route to her workplace, T."

"Grey wants an update about that clingy ex of hers."

"When I relieved Reynolds from his nightshift, he didn't have any new information about possible men who the ex can be. Westbrook did stop by at 5:30 this morning. I followed him into Ms. Steele's building and saw him entering her apartment. I was able to make out them arguing about her having a date later with Grey. Westbrook left within ten minutes of arriving. And Ms. Steele is running late today and missed breakfast. I saw her entering her death-trap of a car in a hurry with an apple in her mouth." Sawyer signalled left as his charge did.

"Westbrook again? I thought I was protective of Sophie, but that loon pushes it." Sawyer merged into the next lane. "Anything to report of Ms. Steele's ex?"

Sawyer sighs. He'd hate to say it, but someone had to. "Is it not possible that she lied about a crazy ex to get Grey's attention? There have been no men harassing Ms. Steele since I've been tailing her."

"I have my suspicions as well. However, Grey said to be on the lookout, so be on the lookout. Ms. Steele claims her ex visits often without invitation and calls her incessantly. It's only been a week since we've been on the alert so perhaps he's gotten the message with her dating Grey."

Sawyer didn't believe that. Now directly behind Ms. Steele, he notices her on her phone talking. "T. You have to tell Grey to talk to her about being on her phone and driving."

"How the fuck are we talking, Luke?"

"By fucking Bluetooth. The girl is a crap driver with both hands on the wheel. She shouldn't be taunting death by taking one hand off."

Taylor harrumphs and Sawyer sees Ms. Steele is now yelling. After Taylor reminds him to just follow the big boss's orders, they hang up. _She might be talking to that ex_. Hoping she was loud enough, Sawyer signals left and merges with the lane right over. With her now on his right side, he rolls down the window of the passenger side. Sure enough, he could hear the sweet Ms. Steele scream, "It's my fucking life! We are over! Get that through your head, Cason!" With that final yell, she takes the phone from her ear and presses a button he assumes is to the end call.

Shocked, Sawyer continues driving next to her. Fucking Westbrook is her ex? That isn't possible, is it? Grey said Ms. Steele was with her ex since she was fifteen, a minor. _A fucking child!_ Westbrook is over twenty years older than her. He'd have to have been in his thirties during her teens. Maybe she knows another Cason, but that seems farfetched. His heart pumping hard, Sawyer calls back Taylor. "Jason, I have a hit."


	10. Pornography

**_Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own FSOG._**

 _A huge thank you for all faves, follows, and reviews. I am extremely thankful. I didn't think anyone would click to read this story given that the plot isn't common on here. So, thank you all very much :)_

 _Quick thing, this takes place the same day the previous chapter left off (Friday) but later in the day. As for the texting, Christian is_ **bold** _, Ana is **bold and italicised.**_

 **EDIT! Warning: Explicit Pedophilia at the end of the chapter. Before mention of it, there will be a * Warning* Sorry to those who have read the chapter without the warning :( **

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**CPOV**

 _BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

My focus shifts from scanning through documents of Seattle Independent Publishing—which contain information regarding everything to know about SIP and its potential—to my propped ringing cellphone. My hopes of it being my sunshine are dashed upon reading Mia's name. I slump in my seat in exasperation. Not that I don't love talking to my sister, but since she found out about Ana she's been calling, texting, emailing, and Skyping me whining about wanting to see my girlfriend.

I am glad to have made my sister so happy with my relationship. However, it is still new, and I am quite aware my sister and mother are crazy. When Elliot brings a new flame over, which happens nearly every family dinner every two weeks since he was in high school, the Grey women faun over all the girls. One would think after bringing in an ocean of women, they would realize their attention towards each one doesn't matter as Elliot never brings them over again. Now given this, I shudder to visualize how my family will ambush Ana, the first girl I'd have ever brought home.

Reluctantly, I grab my phone and answer my sister's call. Immediately, I am deafened by her overly loud voice.

"You promised me I would be the very first one who gets to meet your girlfriend! I wouldn't tell our mom, and I would meet her before everyone else! You went back on your promise!"

"What are you talking about, Mia?" I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale deeply.

"Elliot told me he met Anastasia already!" Mia's voice goes into my head and pulses in there. Not even a minute and she was giving me a headache already. "I thought was your favorite. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for Elliot to tell me he met her first after I bragged how I knew you had a girlfriend—your first girlfriend ever—and I was going to meet her before anyone else because you loved me most? God, Christian. You're such a traitor. How could you do that to me? Elliot laughed at me. You know he's never going to let me live it down."

As Mia prattles on, I rack my brain. When did Elliot meet Ana? After a moment of trying to remember and Mia calling me a traitor repeatedly, it hits me. "Mia! Be quiet and let me talk." She huffs but does as I say. "I didn't arrange for them to meet. It was in the morning, and I was sleeping when Elliot came over. Anastasia had a family emergency and they bumped into each other in the elevator on her way out."

"Oh," Mia mutters, sounding like the brat she was. _Watch it, Grey, you enable her to act like that._ "Well, why did you say I would be the first if you knew I wasn't. That is on you."

I growl, frustrated with her. I rein in my anger to the best of my abilities, and say, as calmly as I can, "Mia, it was the middle of the fucking night. You wouldn't get off the phone, and Ana was trying to sleep. Elliot meeting her escaped my memory after being woken up by _you_."

"Oh," Mia utters, sounding chastised. "Was she angry with me?" Surprised, I ask for clarification, and she rephrases, "Anastasia. Was she mad at me when I woke you two up? I swear I didn't know she was there. I wouldn't have called if I knew you had company. I was just ecstatic that my lonely big brother finally found someone. I'm sorry."

Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. My sister may be a spoiled entitled princess, but she has her moments when I'm reminded how generally sweet she was. That is the sister that prevents me from cutting her off. "Apology accepted. And don't concern yourself. Anastasia was mostly amused with you. She's looking forward to meeting you."

"Really? Do you think we'll be best friends? Are you going to marry her? I want someone to call my sister. Elliot isn't going to give me one, so you're my best bet."

Had I been eating, I would have choked. I clear my throat noisily. "Calm it, Mia. The relationship isn't there yet."

"What? I'm just saying, hypothetically. If you and your girlfriend hit it off great and you two fall in love and get married, it would benefit me, too."

Okay. I need to shut her up. She's bringing up things I don't want to think about. "Alright, Mia. I'm hanging up. I have to work to be able to pay for your shopping."

"Okay. Love you, big brother. Oh no, wait!" I pause before my thumb hits the end button. "Mom wants to have a family dinner on Saturday, tomorrow. Grandma and Grandpa Trevelyan are coming over."

I smile, then frown slightly. I haven't seen them since the end of June. "I would love to see them, but I'm taking Ana to Montesano tomorrow. She's visiting her father's grave, and then we are going to have a picnic at the park."

Mia laughs. "A picnic? At a park? How fun," she guffaws.

Offended, I snap, "It's the anniversary of her father's death. Have a heart, Mia. If Ana wants to do something that she and her deceased father used to do when she was little, I am not going to refuse her."

Mia is quiet. What a miracle. "I'm sorry. You're right. That was mean of me. I was only laughing because I was picturing _you_ , Mr.-suit-and-tie, sitting on the grass and staining your butt green."

"You're forgiven, Mia, but next time think before you say something."

"I will," Mia says earnestly, and I believe her. "So, when did her dad die? How? I couldn't imagine not having ours anymore."

"He was murdered when she was seventeen. A mugging went wrong." Not that Ana's told me this. It's in her background report.

"How sad. Did they catch the person responsible?"

Again, not from her, but I did have Welch dig. "Yes." I do not mention that it was a high school dropout who was drunk, armed with a pocket knife, and looking for extra cash to buy more alcohol. I also do not mention that he claims his innocence to this day, five years later, to anyone who'll listen.

"It's very nice of you for going with her. Does she have other family going?"

I resist the urge to throw something. "Her mother isn't in the picture, but her father's business partner is going." Which I am completely against. I don't want Ana anywhere near this guy, but Ana claims to have talked with him about the incident the other night.

"Well, that's great. Give her my condolences. I'll let the fam-bam know. Can I please tell them about her? They'll understand your absence if I do."

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you, Mia. Love you. Good-bye."

"Love you, too."

After placing my phone back on its stand, I stand and walk to the floor to ceiling window. It feels good to stand after sitting for so damn long. I admire the view for a few moments.

Since last Saturday, when Ana and I agreed to try, we've had lunch every day at the same little deli from when we reconnected, except today. I had a lunch meeting I couldn't reschedule. We will still see each other later tonight as we are going to the movies to watch some horror movie she's been waiting to see. Then, she's spending the night at my place. In the early morning, I'm driving us to Montesano. We plan to spend the day there.

It seems so long ago since we fucked after meeting at a club, but it hasn't even been a month. Yet, in this short time, we've fucked more times we've had dates, and I have my first official girlfriend. I can't comprehend how the fast pace of our relationship feels so. . . right. However, I'm committed to seeing this through. I have also considered inviting her to my playroom. On Saturday night, Ana wore her sexy-as-sin black heels along with a transparent black teddy and matching panties. She let me spank her, and we fucked till morning. Maybe a slow introduction. Frog-in-boiling-pot situation.

A knock on my closed door breaks me away from my reminiscing. _God, her ass was a lovely shade of red from my hand._

"Enter." I stay standing before the window, looking at nothing in particular as I will down my half-hard cock. One of these days, I need to talk to Ana about having lunch in my office. I'd love to fuck her on my desk, couch, and up against this window.

"Mr. Grey, Ms. Anastasia Steele had this delivered to the front desk just about ten minutes ago." I turn to find Andrea by my desk, having just set a large, thick manila envelope on my desk. When I'd given my personal and office number to Ana, I'd instructed my staff that I be directly notified in the case she tried to reach me. I never considered it for mail.

I walk to my desk, eyeing the envelope. "Delivered?"

Andrea clasps her hands in front her, her face displaying her uncertainty. "Upon your orders, Sir, all of Ms. Steele's modes of communication must be immediately alerted. Shall I arrange for inspection per the normal procedure of unexpected drop-ins?"

"That's alright, Andrea. Thank you. That'll be all."

"Mr. Grey." I eye up the envelope as she exits and closes the door behind her.

Leaning against my desk, I grab my phone and text Ana.

 **Too classy for electronics today, Sunshine?**

 ** _Pardon?_**

 **Think of the trees, Ana. Anything you wrote could have been written in an email.**

 ** _What are you talking about?_**

 **The mail you sent me. You are lucky I've already approved you in my company. Otherwise, it could have been weeks before I saw it.**

 ** _I didn't send you anything, pumpkin. You are probably confusing me with another Anastasia._**

I look at the envelope again, perplexed. If she didn't send this, why does it have her name on it as the sender? Curious, I take a picture and send it to her. Maybe she sent it a while ago and forgot about it.

 ** _I didn't send that Christian. I swear._**

Her text comes in fast. So, who sent it? Knowing Taylor will have my ass for opening mail that hasn't been approved, I hesitantly pick up the envelope. A good shake of it reveals the sounds of papers rustling slightly. _Curiosity killed_ _the cat_ , I thought to myself, _but satisfaction brought it back._ I tear off the top in one fast motion and up-end it over my desk. The contents fan out.

 ** _*_ Warning _*_**

My breath catches, my stomach turns, and my heart beats faster. Dozens on dozens of photos of my Ana. Naked. I spread the photos out to see more. It's just her, naked. Close-up shots of her face with telling white fluid dripping down her chin and watery eyes. Some photos place focus on her breasts. Those I find troubling as her breasts are clearly larger today, and I know they are real. They had to have been captured when she was younger and still developing; perhaps under the age of eighteen, I'd say. More disturbing shots of Ana with her legs spread, standing and posing with a bashful smile, and others with her bending over to touch her toes—her ass and sex exposed. Reluctantly, I rifle through all the photos, coming to the conclusion these photos were taken when she was a teenager.

Feeling like a pedophile, I look through the photos and wonder how anyone can possess such explicit photographs of a teenage girl. Regardless if they were taken by someone her age, why would they keep them? These photos could be considered child pornography. Fuck, could I be charged with possessing them? Concerned, yet I can't stop rifling through these fucking photos! What could have possibly convinced Ana to do this? Or perhaps I should say _who_? Ana appears very shy and hesitant. Another word could be awkward. _Someone_ must have talked her into posing for these.

Just as I'm thinking of alerting Taylor, I come across the only photo in which she isn't the only person. Ana is very young, looking no more than fifteen. She's on her back with her legs spread wide and looking straight into the camera. The only clothing she's wearing is an angel's halo atop her head and white wings spreading out behind her on the mattress. But that all pales when considering the thick cock that is buried nearly completely inside her. Blood is smeared between her thighs and the base of the man's cock. The photo had to have been taken by the man, though his face is not shown. I know it's a man by the amount of muscle the body has, the many faded scars marking his pecs, forearms, abs, and thighs.

I turn the picture over, and there is a date and message written.

 _October 31, 2008. She was mine first._


	11. New Eyes

**DISCLAIMER: Do not own FSOG Trilogy!**

 _Blown away by the responses received for the last chapter. Thanks to all! Keep them coming. They keep me motivated :)_

 ***WARNING!* SEXUAL ASSAULT AND SLIGHT PEDOPHILIA MENTIONED IN THIS CHAPTER. THE EVENT TAKES PLACE ON EARLY FRIDAY MORNING,** ** _SAME DAY_** **SAWYER OVERHEARS ANA TAKING TO CASON IN HER CAR AND** ** _SAME DAY_** **CHRISTIAN GETS THE PHOTOS. THE WARNING STARTS AT THE BEGINNING OF CHAPTER UNTIL *END WARNING!*.**

APOV

I am under Christian. He has his warm arms wrapped around me. We are kissing and dry-humping each other through our clothes. We are in my childhood bedroom. I moan, desperate for him to rip off our clothes and make love to me. He pulls away from my lips and begins a slow trail of hot kisses down my neck and chest. I squirm, wondering how I could feel his lips against my skin if I was still wearing my nightgown. When his face gets near my underwear, he forcibly spreads my thighs apart. I cry out in surprise and in pain. Why is he being rough? He rips off my underwear, and I try to push him away from me. He smacks my hands aside and buries his face between my legs. His tongue moves up and down and swirls around. I don't like this. I buck my hips and try to kick him, but he holds my thighs open. He's hurting me. I panic. I squirm to get away from him. I slam my fists down on his head.

"Stop it, Rose!" I jerk awake, gasping. I am in my bed, in my apartment. A sense of wrongness nearly chokes me. Am I still dreaming? Something is touching me. I look down and stop breathing.

Cason is there, between my legs. His face pressed tightly against me. He is holding my thighs apart, his fingers digging so hard. I cry out and jerk my body away from him, as much as I could. He pulls back immediately. Concern clouds his face. "Shh, Rose. It's just me." He reaches for me again, but I jump out of bed on unsteady legs.

"Don't fucking touch me," I squeak, holding my hand out to him. I look around the room for anything I can use to throw at him. "Get out!"

Cason approaches me slowly, and I tremble. "Rose, calm down. It's me."

"Get out!" I grab a heavy snow globe from atop my dresser and threaten him with it. "Get out, get out, get out!"

"What the fuck is your problem? You act like I've never sucked your pussy before!"

"Get out," I say evenly.

Cason holds his hands up but still tries to get closer. "Is this about the limp dick you're dating? Who gives a shit about him?"

"Get out," I whisper, hefting the snow globe, prepared to throw it at him should he get any closer.

He halts his advancement to me and grins. "Are you seeing him later? Afraid he'll notice my cum dripping out of you?" He laughs. "If that's your concern, I'll wear a condom." He steps closer.

"Get out," I repeat, wanting him gone. "I don't want you touching me."

"No." He comes closer, and I throw my weapon as hard as I can at him. Cason dodges it smoothly, and it breaks against my rugs, the water flowing out rapidly. "Calm the fuck down!"

This time, I throw my hairbrush, and it smacks him right in the face. With the small distraction, I run past him, ignoring the sharp pain of glass shards in my feet, and lock myself in the bathroom. It is there that I notice several hickeys on my breasts that weren't there when I went to bed. My nightgown is thankfully still on.

A fist raps softly against the door, and I jump. "Rose," Cason calls out quietly. "I'm so sorry I frightened you. Come on out. I promise I'll stop." At my lack of an answer, he tries again. "I swear I thought you were awake. I'd never do that against your consent, Rose. You should know that. You know I'd never harm you. I love you."

I sit on the edge of the tub and wrap my arms tightly around me. My eyes burn, and tears begin to leak out. I hiccup.

"God damn it, Rose!" Cason punches the door, and a crack appears. I slide down to the floor and drop my forehead to my knees. I can't stop shaking. "I've had it with your attitude. I'm your only family. Did you forget that? I'm all you have left! Without me, you have nothing. Go on your fucking date with Grey. At the end of it all, you are just a hole for him to fuck. At least I care about you! He couldn't care less if you died while he fucked you. He will ruin you!"

I cover my ears after that. I can't hear anymore. He isn't yelling at me, but his cold, calm voice is scary; he's never spoken to me like that. I see new cracks form on the door. I notice for the first time the bloody footprints on the floor. My stomach heaves, and I quickly duck my head into the toilet, throwing up last night's dinner.

A long while later, when I couldn't throw up anything else, I slowly limped my way out of the bathroom. I hear nothing. I sigh in relief. After checking the coast is clear, I lock the front door. My feet are killing me. I groan, spying the blood prints I made when I walked out here. It's six forty. I need to get ready for work or else I'll be late again.

As I walk numbly back to the bathroom, I make a mental list of priorities: clean and bandage feet, take a quick shower, put on makeup to hide the paleness of my skin.

I try hard to push Cason at the far corners of my mind. I don't think about it. After my date, I'll skip sex with Christian and come straight home. _I'll think about it then_ , I promise myself, knowing if I thought about it, I'll break.

 ***END WARNING***

My stomach growls loudly, and Hannah sends me a sympathetic smile. A pained grimace is all I can return. I close my eyes, breathing in and out slowly. My body feels heavy, and my head can fall off my shoulders any second. A wave of nausea flows throughout my limbs, and I make the conscious effort to not gag. Inhale—1, 2, 3. Exhale—1, 2, 3, 4. I continue this until nausea passes. I prop my head up with one hand, debating the pros and cons of leaving early regardless what Jack has to say. My forehead is clammy against my palm.

I am not sick; I am hungry.

I've been working at SIP for the last five months. In that time, I've been denied my lunch hour approximately twenty times. The reasons being that I was late for work, my work was below expectations, or I pissed off Jack. I've come to learn that the sick-to-my-stomach feeling is caused by being hungry—most of the time. Last week when I was really late, I accepted responsibility—although reluctantly—because it had been my fault.

Today is different. Yes, I was ten minutes late, but the rule in the office is if you arrive before your direct boss, you are given a free pass. Jack got in fifteen minutes after me. To further kick me after cancelling my lunch, Jack told me I needed to stay behind after work to organize his cluttered-to-the-max office. I'll be lucky if I get to leave by eight.

Keeping in mind what Christian told me last week about them not being able to do that, I spouted to Jack about my rights and the five-hour regulation thing. I figured Christian knew what he was talking about given that he is a very successful businessman with thousands of employees. Only, he laughed right in my face and told me to do as he said before he fired me and had me blacklisted in Seattle. I don't know if he could do that, but I can't take that chance. I even tried to explain that I wasn't feeling well, and he told me unless I dropped dead, he didn't care.

I groan and try to focus on my manuscript but everything is out of focus. I've never felt this bad like I could drop at any second. Then again, I've never experienced what transpired this morning. I shudder and shove that thought away from me.

The nausea is back. _Oh, God, kill me._ I breathe slowly and precisely again. Perhaps it would be best if I cancelled on Christian. I don't foresee myself getting any better. Or finishing my work before the movie starts.

I take my cell phone out from my desk to call him when a text comes in. I tense and relax. Christian! But I puzzled over his message.

 **Too classy for electronics today, Sunshine?**

Confused, I write back, **_Pardon?_**

 **Think of the trees, Ana. Anything you wrote could have been written in an email.**

 ** _What are you talking about?_**

 **The mail you sent me. You are lucky I've already approved you in my company. Otherwise, it could have been weeks before I saw it.**

This man is working too hard. I smile, grateful to have him cheering me up a bit even if he doesn't know it. **_I didn't send you anything, pumpkin. You are probably confusing me with another Anastasia._**

Soon after I hit send, I receive a picture of an envelope. Only my name is on the senders address, handwritten, but I don't recognize the writing. It isn't mine.

 ** _I didn't send that Christian. I swear._**

I wait for his reply, but it never comes. Odd. Well, if it was important, I'm sure he'll tell me soon enough.

I go back to work. After about twenty minutes, I remember I haven't cancelled with Christian. As I grab my cell phone, it lights up again with another message. _Okay, now it's getting freaky_.

It's from Cason.

I flip the phone over so I can't read it. A pounding in my chest and head develop. This is the first time he has tried to contact me since this morning. Maybe it's important. Maybe he's telling me he won't go to my dad's grave this year like we always did with Christian coming. Holding my breath, I turn my phone over and read the message preview on the lock screen.

 _This is IMPORTANT Rose!_ _Did you take your pictures? The on—_

And it cuts off. He's texting me about pictures? After what he did this morning? I can't get enough air in my lungs. I go into my messages to read what else he had to say. He did write it was important.

The full message reads:

 _This is IMPORTANT Rose! Did you take your pictures? The ones I have locked in my safe? They're all gone! Please tell me you have them. I know this morning was crap for both of us, but please tell me you didn't sneak into my apartment to steal them and give me a heart attack._

Against my better judgement, I text back.

 ** _What pictures?_**

 _The ones I took of you when you were younger._

 ** _I didn't take anything from you._**

 _Don't fucking lie to me little girl. If you have them, give them back._

 ** _I don't even know what photos you're talking about._**

 _All of them! When you were a teenager. They are all fucking gone!_

Oh, fuck. I stand up shakily. I look into Jack's office through his window. He has his feet up and is talking on the phone, facing away. Hurriedly, I go to the bathroom and lock the door.

I call Cason. When he picks up, I immediately say, "I didn't take the pictures."

"Fuck!" A loud bang follows, and I envision it's him punching the wall. I tremble remembering this morning. I use my hand to fan my face. It's getting hard to breathe. "Fuck. Tell me you're lying to get back at me. Tell me you came into my home and took them right out of my safe and they are safe with you," Cason begs. I sway and hold onto one of the sinks for balance.

"No," I whisper. Cason starts cursing again, demanding I tell him the truth. I don't know what to say. I can't think. My pictures are missing?

Then, I hear a beep, indicating another caller. I don't want to talk to Cason anymore. I hang up on him and answer the other call. "Hello?" I croak out.

"Anastasia, we need to talk right now."

"Christian?"

"Ana, please," Christian implores. "This is very important. Can you get out of work early? I really need to hold you right now. God, baby." I am just making out that he sounds desperate. And worried. And heartbroken?

"What's wrong?" I can't speak louder than a whisper.

"Oh, baby, the package. There were photos in there. But that doesn't matter. I'm coming to you right now. I'm just getting in the car." Why is he talking like that, as if he's soothing me?

"Photos?" _I can't breathe_.

"Let's not worry about that right now. I need to see you. Okay? We need to talk right now."

"I'm working," I tell him. My grip on the sink tightens. I suck in as much air as I can, but it's not enough.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

"I can't breathe," I gasp. Despite my grip, my world becomes tilted. "I can't breathe."

"Fuck! Taylor! Tell Sawyer to go to Ana now! Baby? Deep breaths, baby. In and out slowly. Lie down." Christian's voice is getting quieter. "Lie down if you're standing, baby."

I let go of the sink. I drop Christian. Where'd he go? I step away from the sink so I can have room to lie down. He told me to lie down. I sway. The floor drops, and I with it.


	12. Eye of the Storm

**DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN FIFTY SHADES TRILOGY**

 _Warning: Mention of sexual abuse to a child throughout the chapter. Not graphic but please read mindfully._

* * *

 **CPOV**

I've discarded my tie and suit jacket. My sleeves are rolled up to my elbows. I feel like my head or my heart is going to explode. A chill has settled into my bones, but I make no move to turn up the heat. Having no clue what the fuck to do, I stand lamely in front of the large windows in my office. The view of Seattle and the lives down below usually possess the ability to ground me when I feel a slave to my emotions. It has failed me today for the first time.

It feels forever ago when I opened that fucking sick mail with Anastasia's name as the sender. I glance at my watch; it's only been fifteen minutes. I should have never opened it but sent it for inspection. I could have given it to Taylor or Welch to open to save me the disgusting images that will forever be burned into my mind. I could have given it to Ana to go through after she confirmed she had not been responsible for sending it, but no. I had to be a fucking nosy shit and open it and find the pictures.

After fighting over the first wave of nausea, I ordered Taylor and Welch into my office while placing Sawyer on speaker. The disturbed expressions that marked the faces of the men present were expected. Sawyer remained quiet after being told by Welch what the photos contained: a young Ana being raped by a man.

I'd hoped that at my first and only glance I'd mistaken the body to be an adult male given the scars that riddled his body, and the muscles. In the short time it took the two men to get to my office, I'd cooled down by making myself believe it might have been a teenager that kept himself in good shape. Elliot and I were like that. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

I asked them what they had on Ana's elusive ex-boyfriend, who was now suspected to be a pedophile. Sawyer spoke up and told me of the argument Ana had with Cason fucking Westbrook. Well, who Sawyer believes she was yelling at. All she said apparently was his name, Cason. Given also that Sawyer overheard him in Ana's apartment arguing that all she was to me was a hole to dip my dick, Sawyer firmly believes that her ex is Cason fucking Westbrook.

I nearly fucking exploded right there and then when I found out Taylor and Welch have known since this fucking morning but felt they needed more to go on before taking it to me. I screamed until I was surely purple. My orders were that I was to receive whatever updates _immediately_. After firing them no less than a dozen times and calling them every fucking name at my disposal did they let me know that Welch was working on a more thorough background check. Also, Barney was currently at work to hack into a flash drive that Ryan swiped from the asshole's home office. Following Sawyer's discovery, Taylor had sent Ryan to do a sweep of Westbrook's apartment to find anything concrete to bring back to me. Barney has had this flash drive, which had been hidden under a false bottom in a bottom drawer of his nightstand, since noon. There was also a safe but contained nothing Ryan thought was relevant.

The desire to find Westbrook and murder him was strong, still is. My employees convinced me to wait for confirmation it was him and to consider Ana. If Cason fucking Westbrook is the ex that has been harassing her, that would mean the man was molesting her for a very long time. She might not call it rape if she believes she consented. She might defend him and refuse my help. She could leave me and go back into the sicko's arms should it go back to her that my security and I harmed him or had him arrested.

I ordered the photos to be burned, but Taylor disagreed. His argument is that the statute of limitations for statutory rape could still be open for Ana to file charges. She would need the pictures for proof, so it wouldn't turn into a case, he-said-she-said. So, it was decided that the photos would be under lock and key in Welch's office for the time being. No one is to know but the three of us. So, with that heaviness settling into my gut to fester, I let the men go back to work.

I still can't understand what the fuck Westbrook expected sending the pictures under the guise of them being from Ana for me to see them. Wouldn't he have guessed that my security and myself would realize it was a man in the one photo and double our efforts on discovering who he was? Did he expect me to balk at how graphic the photos were and leave Anastasia? Maybe he predicted I would notice the age difference and pester Ana until she left me to protect him? Whatever reason, I chalk it all down to the man being an idiot and desperate.

I close my eyes tightly, then open them when the image of Ana on her back enters my thoughts. My Sunshine was raped and taken advantage off. The night of our first date, she told me she'd had a crush on her ex since she was thirteen. She couldn't have known what was wrong with having sex with a man twenty years older than her if he manipulated her emotions just right. At fifteen by a man that was her father's best friend. The parallels are not lost on me, but I avoided them like the devil.

For fuck's sake, she still talks to him! He fucking fostered her following her father's death! Rage pulses in me, demanding to be released. My hands clench into fists. How fucking sick and demented does one have to be to have sex with a child? How can he have known her since she was a child and think one fucking day he wanted to have sex with her at fifteen and photograph the event? It's inhuman.

My thoughts are interrupted by a brisk knock, followed by Taylor entering. I turn from the view and walk to my desk. In his hands is a flash drive—the one I assume was found in Westbrook's apartment. His face, for once, shows emotions. Disgust and anger radiant from the man in waves that are nearly visible.

"What's on it?" I inquire softly as I sit down, preparing for the worst.

Taylor looks me dead in the eye and says, "Westbrook is Ms. Steele's molester."

I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I hold my breath for five seconds before exhaling loudly. The blood in my veins freezes and a shudder escapes me. "Tell me everything."

With a flat tone, Taylor announces, "On this drive, there are hundreds of videos depicting Ms. Steele and Westbrook having—intercourse. Welch and I have briefly skimmed through videos dating back to the year 2008 when Ms. Steele would have turned 15 in September. There is a video from October 31st of that year that shows Ms. Steele losing her virginity to him. The video is a half hour long, as are most. Both of their faces are visible. Westbrook himself mentions her age and his age. And," Taylor pauses and clears his throat.

"Everything, Taylor," I remind him, opening my eyes. A slight green hue has clouded the man's face.

"There are many videos of them partaking in BDSM, Mr. Grey."

"What?" I ask, horrified. _Ana?_

"I didn't have the stomach to look through those more than a cursory glance, Sir, but it was very clear how Westbrook had Ms. Steele kneeling, behaving. Like. . ." Taylor trails off, looking just to the side of me.

 _Like me._ I finish to myself. A lump forms in the back of my throat, and I try to swallow it down. I'll think about that later, too. "Anything else?"

"Yes. There are many pictures of Westbrook and Ms. Steele on what appeared to be on dates. Kissing at the top of a Farris wheel, picnics, homemade dinners. Holding hands or kissing each other's cheeks. Short videos of them declaring their love for one another, tickling each other. These videos date back from last year to 2008, a few of them even months before Halloween before they. . ." Again, he trails off.

"They dated," I mutter, more to myself than Taylor. "She loved him." What the fuck do I do?

"She was a child, Mr. Grey," Taylor reminded me. "This man was her father's business partner and friend. He preyed on her and used her naivety against her."

"I fucking know that!" I run both hands into my hair. "I fucking want to kill this bastard. I want to put a bullet in his head and in his dick. I want to beat him until every part of him is broken!" I stand and go back to the window. I take deep breathes to calm myself down. I can't even put to words everything I want to do to this man for hurting my Ana.

"I'd help you, but we need to think about Ana before taking any action against him." I look over my shoulder at Taylor as I grip the ledge tightly.

"She won't call it rape, Taylor. What do I do?"

He is silent for a moment. "Do _you_ call it rape?"

I turn around and gape at Taylor. "Are you fucking serious? Don't you? Did you not see that fucking picture? The videos? He molested her. You fucking said it yourself!"

"Why do you call it rape, Mr. Grey?" Taylor holds my gaze, his face hard and his eyes like ice.

I walk to him until our chests are nearly touching. What monster does he think I am? "She was a kid! He should have known better than to have sex with a minor! And to introduce her to dominance and submission? That's fucking inexcusable to add to everything else he was doing to her. He was damaging her!"

"Ana might have a better chance understanding she was sexually abused if she has someone in her shoes explain it to her. Sir."

I step back quickly. My face is cold, and my palms feel sweaty. My knees nearly buckle under me as I consider what my CPO is getting at. Taylor stays unmoving, his hands crossed in front of him. How the fuck does he know?

I shake my head. I can't think about that now.

I need to talk to Ana.

"I'm going to Ana, Taylor. Alert Sawyer." I grab my cell phone from its stand and dismiss my tie and jacket after a brief glance at the couch where they lay.

Taylor nods once and begins typing a message on his phone. "Mr. Grey." When he finishes, he tucks the phone it an unseen pocket inside his suit jacket and waits for me to grab my wallet from my jacket.

Together, we walk out of my office. I don't look at Andrea or Olivia as we pass their desks, only tell them, "Have a good weekend, ladies." They both look startled but extend the goodbye to me simultaneously.

As Ana and I have a movie date planned for six tonight, I made sure to have my schedule cleared of anything that had the potential of keeping me from her. I was going to be picking her up at five-thirty at her apartment with flowers, but now I just want to cancel the movie and hold her all night. It's just after four, so hopefully, Ana will be able to get clock out early. If not, I plan to park outside and wait for her as Sawyer does most of the time.

Taylor and I have entered the parking garage, and I think I should probably call Ana to not surprise her. She told me once that she hated when Cason did that. My hands tremble as I look for Ana's contact information.

Now I fucking get why she was upset when she first thought that I could hear what he told her that night he climbed into bed with her. Ana lied to me for him. Something her father used to tell her, I don't believe that anymore. He's harassing her. He pays a portion of her rent. He has access to her apartment. He's her only emergency contact. Holy fuck. No wonder he hates me. I'm the man stealing Ana from him.

No. I'm saving her from him. I'm going to save her from him if it's the last fucking thing I do.

I call her, and she answers quickly. "Hello?" A timid little croak greets me.

"Anastasia, we need to talk right now," I say, not beating around the bush. Taylor is ahead of me unlocking the SUV with a press of a button. A chirpy beep echoes.

"Christian?" My heart nearly breaks at her soft voice. I can't imagine how badly I'm going to catch her off guard.

"Ana, please. This is very important. Can you get out of work early? I really need to hold you right now. God, baby." I wince at the slip of "baby". I know she despises that pet name, but I can't help calling her that. Taylor is holding the back door open for me, but I ignore it and climb in shotgun.

Ana's voice is eerily small when she replies, "What's wrong?"

Oh, my sweet girl, being concerned for me. "Oh, baby, the package. There were photos in there," I'll keep the flash drive to myself for now. Will she tell me it was fucking Westbrook? "But that doesn't matter. I'm coming to you right now. I'm just getting in the car." Taylor is behind the wheel now and is powering up the vehicle. I buckle in one-handed.

"Photos?" Ana sounds breathy. Could she guess which type?

"Let's not worry about that right now. I need to see you. Okay? We need to talk right now." Once the SUV is in motion, my shoulders wind up tighter. Just ten minutes to SIP, less if Taylor breaks a few road laws.

"I'm working," Ana rasps as if she's been running and not working behind a desk.

Concerned, even more, I question her, "Baby? What's wrong?"

She is gasping loudly into my ear. "I can't breathe."

"Fuck! Taylor!" To his credit, he doesn't appear taken aback by the change of volume. "Tell Sawyer to go to Ana now!" Immediately, he begins pressing a series of buttons on the touchscreen on the dash while picking up speed. Not a second later, he's relaying my order to Sawyer. I just make out Sawyer's reply. He should be at her side in less than two minutes. I'm not worried if he could; SIP's security is worth shit.

Feeling slightly better but no less helpless, I instruct to Ana, "Deep breaths, baby. In and out slowly." I demonstrate for her, needing that air to calm myself. Grace always said that if a person was feeling breathless, it could be a sign they may faint. Oh, fuck. "Lie down. Lie down if you're standing, baby." Fuck, you better be sitting at your desk, Ana.

The response I get is a resounding crack that shakes me. "Ana!" Not a second later, I hear a thud. "Ana! Ana! Ana! ANA!" When there is no reply, I punch the dash. The expected pain is dull compared to the panic I feel. "Sawyer! Where the fuck are you? Ana! Can you hear me? Ana, Ana!"

"Sir deep breaths."

I twist my torso to glare at Taylor fully. "Fuck you, Taylor."

"Ana will need you calm, not losing your shit. Sawyer is past SIP's doors and is aware of the situation. Calm down. We are four minutes away. Sawyer will handle it until we get there."

Four more damn minutes until I have Ana in my arms. I take a deep breath, keep the phone pressed to my ear and continue calling her name though inhales and exhales.

 **Sawyer's POV**

The boss lost his shit. Sawyer could hear the man close to hyperventilating.

But his concern was getting to his target's side. Ms. Steele. From what he overheard, Ms. Steele might have just fainted. Not his usual call of duty, but if the boss wants to blow shit out of proportion, it was no skin off his nose. The man did sign his paycheck. If Sawyer was being honest with himself, he was concerned as well for his target's safety. Though, was it worth exposing himself to her when her co-workers can help her? She didn't even know who he was or that he was hired to protect her.

The front desk was empty. Employees paid him no mind as he made his confident way to the back where Jack Hyde's office was located. That was where he was betting to find Ms. Steele passed out behind her desk. Only, her desk was empty, and Hyde was barking out orders through the intercom, unaware she wasn't there to receive them. One woman, Hannah the intern, was eyeing him suspiciously. Finally. That he was able to make it back here with no one even giving him a second glance other than to ogle his ass was fucking unbelievable.

But where was Ms. Steele? No one seemed to be concerned for her absence. Beginning to understand that this was a valid emergency, Sawyer stood taller and barked to the intern, "Where is Ana?"

Startled, she asked, "Who are you?" Her hand moved to the phone on her desk, probably to call their chicken-shit security.

Sawyer moved to stand over her station, hoping to cow her into submission. "Her security. I need her location now." If Ana fainted with no one to catch her, she could have hit her head.

"Um, I-I saw her taking her cell with her. Maybe she went to the bathroom or the lounge?" Was she asking him or telling him?

Needing nothing more, Sawyer spun on his heel and walked to the nearest possible destination. She wasn't in the lounge. Now, the panic was seeping in. Sawyer didn't hesitate when reaching for the women's room handle. Only, it was locked. He pounded on the door, then called out her name. When there was no answer, he pressed his ear to the door. No answer.

"Is she in there?" Sawyer looked back to the intern standing a few feet away from him.

"It's locked. Where is the key?"

"Is she okay?" She looked around him to the door, concerned. Sawyer knew this woman was friends with Ms. Steele. They ate lunch together often before Grey came into the picture fully.

"She might have fainted. I need to get in here. Get someone who can open the door if you don't have a key." She gawked at him, and he said harshly, "Now!"

As if her ass were on fire, she hurried back the ways she came, yelling out that Ana fainted and was trapped in the bathroom. Sawyer rolled his eyes but figured if more co-workers knew, the faster this fucking door will open. He couldn't kick it in as it was too heavy, and he'd end up hurting himself. That would not do Ms. Steele any good.

"Ana! Can you hear me?" Sawyer called, pounding the door some more.

"Keys, keys, keys!" He turned to see Hannah, Hyde, and a man and two women he couldn't place coming towards him. A set of keys were held high in Hannah's grasp. "It's the big one! The brass!" She told him after he snatched them from her. Ignoring the women's overdone cry of concern for their co-worker, Sawyer unlocked the door and hurried inside.

Ana was splayed on the floor in front of the sinks with her cell just within her reach. Sawyer knelt at her side and motioned everybody to stay back by holding his hand out.

Paying no mind to the inquiries of who he was and what he was doing, Sawyer gently shook her shoulders and called her name. With no response, he carefully straightened her body on her back, placed one hand on her forehead, put two fingers of the other hand beneath her chin, tilted her head back, and lowered his head to her mouth to check her breathing. Soft breaths hit his ear and her chest rose up and down slowly. Bearing in mind she might have hit her head on the way down, Sawyer hesitated before carefully moving her to recovery position without twisting her spine or neck.

Being mindful of her body, Sawyer stretched over her to get the phone laying screen down on the floor. There was a crack on the screen that reached from the top and to bottom. Also, his boss was on the line.

Holding Ms. Steele's phone to his ear, Sawyer just made out his boss saying, "—very close by, baby. I'm coming, Ana. Just a little bit longer, sunshine."

"She's safe for the time being, Mr. Grey."

A deep sigh of relief. "How is she?"

"Fainted, Sir. She's breathing normally." Ana makes a whimper-like noise, and Sawyer reports, "She might be gaining consciousness, Sir."

"Do not leave her side, Sawyer." The phone goes silent.

Sawyer discards it in his pocket. Ana is still making small noises. "Ana? Can you hear me? I'm Luke Sawyer. Ana, do you understand?"

Her eyes flutter behind her eyelids, and she finally opens them. She squints, moving her head slightly to gauge her surroundings.

He tries to get her attention again. "Ana? Ana Steele?"

Wordlessly, she begins to sit up. Sawyer quickly gives her support by wrapping his arm behind her shoulders. "Christian," she whispers, her breath damp on his cheek.

"He's one the way, Ana." Slowly, he eases her body to sitting upright, not letting her go when she's there. "How are you feeling?"

She grips his forearm tightly. "Lightheaded. Hungry."

Hungry? That could be why she fainted. Grey is going to blow the roof off this place if she wasn't allowed to have lunch again. "You didn't eat breakfast. Did you eat lunch?"

"No."

Sawyer looked to her dick-of-a-boss. He stood there, a bit worried, but Sawyer didn't think it was over Ms. Steele. Call Grey an asshole, but he never allows him or anyone else under his employ to starve to get work done.

 _Oh, that man is so fired when Grey buys this place_ , Sawyer thought to himself.

"Alright. How's your head?" He didn't see any signs of head injury like slurred speech or confusion. She said lightheaded, but it is most likely from hunger.

"It's fine. Thank you," she says, leaning into him.

It is then Sawyer noticed the red marks on her breasts. He didn't mean to look, but her position allowed him a peek down her shirt. Sawyer averted his eyes instantly. Those seemed fresh, but Sawyer knew Grey and Ana haven't slept together since last weekend. If Sawyer looked hard enough, he could see a hickey on her neck she tried covering with makeup. Holy fuck, she cheated on Grey. Hiding a wince on behalf of Grey, Sawyer went through his recent memory of which men in her life she's been alone with.

With a start, he realized the only man was Cason Westbrook this morning. Could it be possible she was still fucking him?

"Oh, Ana! Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Hannah the intern got on her knees in front of her friend. This distracted Sawyer from his disturbing thoughts.

"No, I'm okay. Just need something in my belly." She pointed to her stomach.

Worry clear in her brown eyes, Hannah stood quickly. "I'll go see if there're still donuts left. Maybe the sugar will help you feel better." And she hurried off.

"Do you want to try standing, Miss?"

"Yes, thank you," Ms. Steele thanked him anew. He held her firmly and stood up slowly. She wobbled a bit before gaining stability. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome." He was standing in front of her, and he knew the moment her face lit up with recognition.

"You're the cute Starbucks guy!" She reddened, and clarified, "I mean, I always see you at the Starbucks across the street, and I noticed you there." Her blush deepened. "Hi. I'm Ana. But you knew that already because you called me by my name."

She looked absolutely mortified. Smiling, Sawyer humbly thanked her for the compliment. "I didn't know you worked here," Ana said, biting her full bottom lip.

As he contemplated what to tell her, he heard his boss yelling above the noise Ms. Steele's co-workers were making. "Ana! I'm here, I'm here!"

When Christian Grey enters a room, everyone notices. Regardless if anyone knows who he is, everyone stops their conversations to stare at the pretty boy billionaire.

 **CPOV**

I shove my way through the handful of people gathered outside the women's bathroom, ignoring the gasps as I pass. My only purpose is to see Ana is safe.

I see she is when I pass the door. Sawyer is steadying her by holding her arm. Ana peeks around Sawyer's larger frame and smiles weakly when spotting me. "Christian."

Not meaning to be rude, or caring, I push Sawyer out of my way. "Oh, baby," I sigh in relief, wrapping my arms about her. Burying my nose in her hair, I breathe in her lovely scent. "You took years off my life, sunshine."

She sighs contentedly and settles into my embrace. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

A throat clears besides us. "Sir, she fainted because she was hungry." Ana looks at Sawyer in realization.

"Ana, the donuts are gone, but I found you a cupcake in the fridge! And here's some water," a woman squeaks at our other side. I release Ana but keep my hand on her waist. She needs to eat.

"You're a blessing, Hannah." Ana takes the vanilla squished cupcake and takes a large bite. She makes an mmm sound while ignoring frosting that gets on her nose.

Sawyer comes closer to us and tells me, "She didn't eat lunch, Mr. Grey."

"Ana, if you were hungry, you should have taken lunch," a man says, coming into the bathroom. It was starting to feel crowded. "There was no need to be dramatic."

Ana chokes on a sip of water, and I pat her back gently. Hannah turns to the man, her face red in anger. "You were the one that said she couldn't eat lunch, Mr. Hyde."

Jack Hyde. That mother fucker. I glare at him, and Ana stops spluttering. Hyde glowers at the woman defending my baby. "She could have told me she wasn't feeling good. I would have let her eat if I knew she was feeling faint."

Hannah throws her arms up dramatically. "She told you she wasn't feeling well. You said you didn't care if she dropped dead!"

I growl. Ana gazes at me over her cupcake with concern. "It's okay, Christian. I'm fine now."

"You passed out! Did you forget what I told you?" I glare at the man, wishing I'd already acquired SIP so I can fire his ass.

Quietly, Ana says, "He didn't care and threatened to fire me."

"Calm down!" A firm voice echoes into the bathroom. A woman stands in the entryway near Hyde. He seems smug with an idiotic smile on his face. "If Ms. Steele was feeling terrible, it was her responsibility to either go home or not come in at all. No way is Mr. Hyde accountable for Ms. Steele's well-being."

I snap, "If he is threatening her by firing her, he is accountable. By fucking law, he has no right to force her to go without lunch after working a five-hour shift."

"Excuse me, sir, but this matter does not concern you. I suggest you leave before I have security throw you out."

"Sir," Taylor calls to me from behind the woman. "The car is ready for you and Ms. Steele."

Hyde opens his mouth, and I really want to punch his teeth in. "If she leaves," he says with bravado now that he has that bitch standing behind him, "she's fired."

I walk until I'm towering over him. He smirks like he has the fucking world in his hand. Taylor presses closer, and I sense Sawyer right behind me. This fucking day has me on the fucking edge; I can barely keep myself from strangling this man. "Do it, and I'll make your life a fucking hell," I warn him, quiet enough so only he hears.

He scoffs, "Who the hell are you to make me concerned?"

"Fire her, and you'll find out."

* * *

 _A/N: I hope I was accurate with the fainting protocols and waking up. I've never fainted myself and got the information via Youtube and blogs. If I did, let me know so I can correct it:)_

 _Also, very sorry it's been over a month. I had the tail end of the semester to finish with exams and final projects/papers. But I'm back and hope you all stick by me as I finish this story. Rest assured I will not jump ship. It may occasionally take me some time to pump out chapters but I always have attention to it._

 _I would like to honor my 200th reviewer, CTHEWOODS! In this chapter, I included an idea you wrote in your review that inspired me. Hope you see which one it is. Thanks for all of your support!_

 _To conclude this rather long author's note, I thank everyone who took the time to review, fave, follow, and PM me. Feel free to drop ideas or constructive criticism:) Next chapter, Christian shares his backstory._


	13. Off-Guard

**DISCLAIMER: FSOG BELONGS TO E. L. James.**

* * *

 **CPOV**

"I can't believe I was almost fired," Ana says as she scoots across the backseat to make room for me. She opts to sit by the window, so I sit in the middle. I reach over her shoulder and pull the seatbelt across her torso to beside her hip where the buckle is. I would rather have her on my lap on our way home but safety first.

"But you didn't," I mollify, pressing my lips to the side of her head. I pull back after a few seconds and fasten myself up. Taylor starts up the SUV, and I tell him to go to Ms. Steele's place. He pulls from the curb after checking for oncoming traffic. Sawyer rides in the passenger seat. I'm mildly surprised that Ana hasn't questioned his presence.

"Yeah, it's amazing how the threat of a lawsuit changed Jack's and Elizabeth's minds. They practically kissed your ass when we left," she grumbles, looking out the window. That was part of it, I'm sure, but mostly it was after I said I was Christian Grey. I wouldn't be surprised if those two conniving assholes began treating Ana like royalty. They know I could buy SIP and fire their asses, which I am.

My hand rests on Ana's thigh. I would hold her hand, but she has both tucked under her thighs. Her shoulders are hunched in, too. What a day she must be having. I repress a grimace, not looking forward to bringing up what was sent to me and what was discovered shortly after.

I squeeze her thigh to get her attention, but I only get a slight movement from her shoulders in return. "How about we skip the movie?" I suggest. "We can go somewhere to eat, or my housekeeper can cook us something really quick and delicious." Though I aim to make myself sound gentle and reassuring, my voice does not cooperate. I come out sounding gruff and unlike myself.

Ana pulls her gaze from building watching to glance at me for a second. Her lips purse and she shakes her head. Her attention returns to the blur of cars, people, and buildings outside the window. "Can you drop me off at my apartment? I just want to make myself something quick to eat and go to bed," she says delicately, leaning her head against my shoulder, probably to soften the rejection.

I still feel it, though, in my stomach. Sort of like an empty feeling. I keep quiet, mulling the situation over in my head to see what I missed. I thought she was happy to see me at her work, but maybe that was fleeting. Does she suspect that I know what I know? Holy fuck, during the call I mentioned photos of her, and she fainted seconds after. Does she remember? I've been so concerned with her well-being, I've not noticed her body language. She has not made direct eye contact with me since I arrived, just looked down at her feet or over my shoulder. I run my free hand over my hair, feeling how chaotic it must look. Crap, is she distancing herself from me?

Deciding to bite the bullet while I have her trapped in moving a vehicle, I ask, "Ana, what do you remember before you fainted?"

We pass quickly through the shadow of a building, and I get a glimpse of Ana's face: her nose is scrunched, eyes narrowed, and mouth twisted in thought. "Um, we were talking on the phone, but I remember the room was spinning and I had a hard time breathing." She takes a deep breath as if reliving the memory.

"That's it?"

"Oh, and I spoke with Cason before you called. That's when I began feeling dizzy." I growl, and she moves from my shoulder to look at me confused. "Did you just growl at me?"

I meet Taylor's eyes through the rearview mirror. He shakes his head slightly, and I take a deep breath. "Sorry, sunshine," I say and give her a twisted smile. "I just do not like that man."

Not smiling back, she leans her head against the car door instead of me. "The feeling is mutual."

 _Like I fucking care._ I frown. "What's wrong, sunshine?" I call her sunshine, but I should be calling her rain cloud. I now see the unshed tears in her eyes. She looks like she could start bawling at any moment though is trying her best to hide it.

"I'm not feeling myself today," she whispers, finally meeting my eyes. I am not prepared for the conflict and pain in her normally happy eyes. Her bottom lip begins to tremble as I continue to stare at her.

If only we weren't in a moving vehicle. I would pull her into my lap, wrap my arms around her, and coax her to let loose those tears. I settle for tugging one of her hands from beneath her legs and kiss her fingertips. "Tell me what happened, sunshine," I implore her between kisses. "Tell me so I can make it better."

She bites her bottom lip and glances at our CPOs in the front. I see her struggle to push down her emotions by blinking away the tears and taking a few deep breaths. Ana looks to the front again and blurts out, "So, explain to me why Cute Starbucks Guy is sitting up front with Taylor."

Confused, I question, "Who?"

A throat clears noisily from the front. "Ah, she means me, sir," Sawyer clarifies, shifting his shoulders in discomfort, I assume.

 _Cute?_ "You mean Sawyer?" _What does she mean by cute?_

"Only if he is the same man I've been seeing at Starbucks this past week, yes. I'm curious as to why he's calling you sir." Her shoulders straighten a bit, and her chin rises. She narrows her eyes at me.

I sigh. "I was worried for your safety. Remember that."

"Christian," Ana says in warning.

I run my hand through my hair again. "After you told me your ex was harassing you, I assigned Sawyer as your CPO to ensure you were never harmed."

"So, he's been following me around for a week?"

"Yes," I agree. I'm not lying either. He _has_ been following her, just two weeks longer than she thinks.

"What does he do all day while I'm at work?"

"He is on standby should you need him."

"Oh my god, that must have been so boring. Sorry, I'm not an exciting person, Mr. Sawyer."

Sawyer twists back to look at her with kindness. "It's what I'm paid to do. And just Sawyer is fine, Ms. Steele." He turns back with a smile that stiffens as he sees my narrowed eyes.

Ana smiles, and it's breathtaking to see. "You get paid to sit, drink Starbucks, and do nothing? Wow, I chose the wrong profession."

I chuckle, pleased my happy Ana is returning, though I suspect she only is to avert the conversation from her inner turmoil. "I pay him to keep you safe, sunshine, not do nothing."

"Pumpkin, I'm just going to and from work." Her eyes widen. "Now I know why Sawyer looked familiar. He was there for our date last week, wasn't he? How did I not remember him?" She sounds like she's speaking to herself more so than me.

Taylor speaks up, cutting off the conversation. "We're at Ms. Steele's, Mr. Grey."

I look to my right, and sure enough, her apartment building is just passing by. Taylor finds a spot to park at the curb in front. After the SUV is turned off, I unbuckle first Ana, then myself. She kisses my cheek and mouths, "Thanks." As she gathers her purse, she asks, "Do you want to come? I'm thinking of making some soup."

I smile and scoot out the door Sawyer holds open. "I would like that, yes." I reach back for Ana's hand and help her out, too. Her bag clutched tightly to her side, she peers up at her building. She taps a foot and winces. She isn't wearing her usual heels, I notice. Strapped to her feet are brown boring flats.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor calls to me. I force my gaze from Ana to Taylor still sitting behind the wheel. "I have an update." Raising one eyebrow, I nod my head to Ana. Taylor moves his head once to the side.

"Sunshine," I say, "go on up without me. I'll join you momentarily."

She meets my eyes, curious. "Oh, that's fine. Be however long you want. I need to tidy up before you go up there anyway."

I lean down and kiss her. "Sawyer will go up with you."

"No, no, no! That's okay. I'll be safe up there." She presses her lips together and looks up at me through her lashes. Damn, this woman knows how to do the puppy dog eyes.

I want to mention Westbrook going into her apartment last week but a telling look from Sawyer holds my tongue. His eyes flick from me to Taylor, silently asking to stay. Deciding to trust my security, I tell Ana to text me when she's secured. I also remind her to lock her door. She nearly runs inside to the elevators after confirming she will.

After seeing the numbers climb up to her floor, I settle back inside the SUV. Sawyer jumps into shotgun while Taylor twists his torso around.

"Ryan and Reynolds arrived to pick up Ms. Steele's car from SIP parking two minutes ago, Mr. Grey. Reynolds reported to me Westbrook's vehicle was parked in front of the building."

Hate and anger strike me so suddenly I remain quiet. My hands become fists in my lap, and I close my eyes. My pulse is humming beneath my skin.

Taylor continues at my lack of response. "Ryan was able to gain entry inside SIP and found Westbrook asking the receptionist for Ms. Steele, stating it was an emergency. When informed she left in your care, he left after leaving a note on her windshield. The note says he will be skipping the outing to her father's burial tomorrow to look for the missing items and asks she stay behind to help him. I ordered Reynolds to follow him in the SUV and report back his whereabouts and activities. Ryan is on his way here with Ms. Steele's vehicle."

I open my eyes. Darn, I forgot about tomorrow. So much shit has happened it left my thoughts completely. After taking a deep breath, I say, "Did the note specify what he meant by missing items?"

"No, sir."

"Where is he headed to now?"

"Reynolds believes they are in route to his apartment, sir."

"How did he look?"

"The men described him as shaken and jumpy. He kept looking over his shoulders when returning to his vehicle."

Interesting. He must sense the storm coming after him. "Keep a man on him until I say otherwise. Inform me of everything he does and everywhere he goes. If he comes too close to Ms. Steele, the men are to divert him someplace else and give Sawyer a head's up. I don't care how they do it, but make sure he doesn't come close to Ana. Sawyer, in this case, alert me immediately and take Ana to Escala or to me. Explain to her that there is a threat and no more than that."

"Yes, Mr. Grey." Sawyer and Taylor say in unison.

"I plan to stay the night. Go home, rest. We will be fine by ourselves." I open the door and begin getting out.

"Sir, is that wise?" Taylor questions, alarmed. "Westbrook might make an appearance."

"Reynolds is on him. He will report to you, and you will report to me. End of discussion. Have a good evening, gentlemen. I will see you tomorrow morning for the drive to Montesano at nine. Bring me a change of clothes."

Knowing they disapprove of my orders, I suppress a smirk as they both say, "Mr. Grey," stiffly.

They stay as I enter the building. In the elevator, after I press for Ana's floor, I look out and see them scowling at me. The elevator doors close, and that is the last I see of them. I wouldn't be surprised if they stay until Reynolds confirms Westbrook's position.

Now, to think about how I will approach Ana. I am unwilling to spring what I know to her. I don't want to spook her. But fuck! How can I come about this? Should I rip off the band-aid? Tell her off the bat what my security team and I discovered today? I rest against the wall and cross my hands in front of me. I eye the fake camera installed in the corner. Should we even discuss this today? We will visit her father's tomorrow. I don't want this to hang over our heads.

I recall Taylor's words from earlier, that Ana may respond better if she had someone that understood exactly what she went through. I know what he meant, but can I share my story with Ana when I've not put much thought into it myself? Am I ready to disclose something only very few people knew? Do _I_ even want to tell her? If I were given another choice if Ana hadn't been abused, would I still be considering telling her? If informing her that my past is similar to hers, will that help her except that what she and Westbrook did was wrong?

I don't have to ponder this long. If it will help her to exile that monster from her life, I will tell her everything. This isn't about me; this is about saving her.

I want her to know that I care despite the horrors she unknowingly went through. She needs to know I'll be here with her, fighting for her. If she decides to file charges, she needs to know I'll hold her hand throughout the entire process. My dad can represent her or direct her to someone better who can. My family doesn't know her, but I know they'll open their arms to her for me. Ana is the sweetest person I've ever met, and they will all adore her as much as I do. I can help her find another apartment, or she can move in with me until she finds her feet. I'll buy her another better car—one that won't break down on her or require monthly repairs. I'll buy SIP, so she'll always have a secure job.

Fucking hell, how can I care so much for a woman I've known for five damn minutes? How the hell did I last thirty years without her? My grandfather always told me when I found my lucky someone, all else would lose meaning as she became the center of my universe. She would be all I could see in a room filled with hundreds. All my thoughts will be of her. I will want to save her if she needs saving.

Since I met Ana, I can't recall a day where I've not thought of her. She's opened me up and has me doing things I would have never done. I want to save her. Is this what my grandfather meant? Do I love Ana?

The elevator jerks to a stop, and the doors open with a creak. I step off quickly and hurriedly walk to Ana's door, trying to leave my thoughts in that prehistoric thing that's supposed to be an elevator. My heart thumping fast and my knees like jelly, I knock three times. Through the door, I hear a vacuum, so I knock twice harder. It shuts off moments later, and I call out, "Ana, it's me."

"Coming!"

As I wait, I stare hard at the large thirteen on her door. Is thirteen a lucky or an unlucky number? My hands in my pants pocket, I resist the urge to run them through my hair for the hundredth time today. Why the hell did my mind suddenly decide to catch up with my feelings, today of all days? I was fine living in ignorance for at least another month. Do Ana's feelings parallel mine? How do I know that I invade her mind as she does mine?

The lock turns, and I plaster on a charming smile in an effort to conceal my abrupt insecurity. What if Ana only sees us as a fun, not-long-term fling? Does this young naïve woman have the ability to break my heart? Thank goodness I left my tie at the office. It would be strangling me right about now.

A grunt sounds off from the other side of the door, halting my thoughts. I press my ear to the wood just as a big smack makes the door shake. I pull away and bang the door with my fist. "Ana!" Fuck it all, I shouldn't have sent our CPOs away. I should have known better. Stupid idiot!

"The door sticks sometimes!" Ana shouts. The doorknob jiggles, and she grunts with the effort from presumably trying to pull the door to open it. "Can you try pushing?"

Mystified, I do as she asks. First, I push with just my hands flat on the door. When that fails, I shove my shoulder against the door. That does it, and I land almost on my knees as I fall through. Ana yelps and jumps back before she can fall on her ass. I regain my balance, feeling my neck warm. So much for being charming. Ana smiles bashfully, pink coloring her cheeks.

"Sorry. I've been hounding the building manager to fix it," she explains, looking down at her feet. "Mind your step. The floor is wet in some places. I mopped up some stains before you came up."

I enter her apartment to the scent of Clorox and close the door behind me. "How long has it been jamming?" I lock the door with the deadbolt and chain. To prevent footprints on her wet floor, I step out of my shoes and leave them by the door. Mental note: have Elliot come and fix the door.

"Since I've lived here, but it doesn't happen often." She laughs. "Earlier this year, I got stuck outside and had to ask around the building for any strong men to help me. Ms. Preston from two floors up thought I was asking for a date and set me up on one with her son." Chuckling at the memory, she gestures me to sit on her couch.

"A date? How serious did it get? What is his name? What does this son look like?" I try not to sound jealous, but she still smiles knowingly.

Giggling, she sits sideways on my lap and wraps her arm around my neck. "Hmm, let me think. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He had these pretty brown eyes that I could just fall in, a perfect crooked smile that made me melt. Whenever he spoke to me, I had to change my panties after." She sighs wistfully. "He was the love of my life." Ana stares dramatically off into space with a hand to her heart.

I know she's only trying to get a rise out of me, but the green-eyed monster doesn't care. Not amused, I tug on her hair—hard enough to get her attention but not so hard to hurt her. She meets my eyes and laughs. "That isn't funny, Anastasia. Tell me his name."

"Does that make you jealous, Christian?" Ana kisses me, but I pull back. Not offended, she places small kisses all over my cheeks and nose. "Why does it make you jealous, pumpkin? I'm with you now," she coos with a hand flat against my chest.

Despite my effort to keep pouting, a smile escapes me. My hands tighten on her waist. "Exactly. You're mine. Banish all thoughts of other men. I'm better than all of them, so if you're going to swoon over anybody, it better be me."

I grab a fistful of her hair and force her lips to mine. Eager, she matches my fervor. I can't hold her ass given how she's sitting on my lap, but I can grab her somewhere else I love. I cup her breasts with both hands, and she moans into my mouth. Ana repositions herself until her knees on either side of me and rocks against my growing erection. Her skirt gathers around her hips, giving me a peek to her white panties. My hands switch from inside her blouse to outside and begin to unbutton it from the bottom.

At that moment, a loud growl from her stomach reminds me that my baby is starving. My erection deflates at record time. Everything can wait until I put something in her belly. Ana protests as I stand and put her on her feet. I frown as she sways on her feet. She needs to take better care of herself.

My hands on her upper arms keeping her steady, I reprimand her. "Why haven't you eaten anything? Your priority should have been fixing yourself something to eat, not cleaning your damn apartment!"

"Who are you to scold me?" Ana snaps, shrugging off my hands. I only let go when I'm sure she can stand without help.

I rub the back of my neck, exasperated. "I didn't mean it like that, Ana. I don't like you hungry. Don't forget you fainted earlier today. You didn't want to go to the emergency, and I agreed only because you gave your word you would eat something as soon as you got home."

I follow her into the kitchen that is just off from the living room. "You don't have to remind me, Christian. I was there. I got a little sidetracked. I'm fine. Look, I'll make something now." Ana opens the fridge and eyes up the food. Or lack of food. All that was in there was a near empty carton of milk, cheese, ham, and eggs. The argument forgotten, I snoop through one of her cupboards, finding it nearly empty except for half a loaf of bread, a few packages of chicken-flavored Ramen noodles, three small cans of tuna, English Breakfast tea, and a cereal box. Frowning, I browse the cupboards over her stove and find them empty.

"Where's all your food, Ana?" Just last weekend, all her cupboards and fridge were well-stocked.

Face flushing, Ana drops her head and closes the fridge. Not answering me, she asks, "How about that soup?" Not waiting for my response, she takes out two packages of Ramen noodles and sets them on the counter.

"Ana," I say sternly. She ignores me, pulling out a pot from under the counter. "Ana, what happened?" I dread her answer as I've got a feeling Westbrook has a part in this. If that man doesn't end up dead at the end of this, I'll be really surprised.

"I don't want to tell you," she tells me point-blank, not bothering to look me in the eye.

Surprised, I stare as she fills the pot with tap water and then places it on the stove. She sets the stove to medium. Next, she opens the packets, fishes in them, and retrieves flavor packets. All this she sets on the small slice of counter between the fridge and stove. She wraps her arms around herself and stares at the water she set to boil.

"Ana," I urge.

"It's not your headache, Christian."

I am conflicted. Ana has never outright said she wanted to keep something from me. If she were a submissive—or anyone else for that matter—I would have demanded an explanation. It was rare when I had to as everyone usually gives me whatever information I want. I always get what I want; I'm Christian Grey. Is it arrogant of me to expect everyone to bend over backward to please me? Probably. That is my reality, and I worked my ass off to make it so.

Ana is different, though. I can't expect to treat her the same way I do everybody else. She would not stand for that, and I wouldn't want her to. I love that she is the anomaly in my life. If I plan to keep her, I need to work on embracing a more open persona.

Through my internal musings, the water has begun boiling. Ana carefully adds the dried chunks of noodles into the pot. She tosses the wrappers away in the trashcan hidden under the sink.

"Why, Ana?" I ask as she stirs the food with a fork.

"Why what?" She adds the flavor packets, then continues stirring.

I lean against the counter, facing her. "Why don't you want to tell me where all your food went?"

She sighs and turns off the stove. As she retrieves two bowls from the drying rack by the sink, Ana admits, "Because it's embarrassing, Christian. You wouldn't understand. You're loaded."

I don't know what to say, so I stay quiet.

After transferring the food into the bowls, she sets them on the little yellow table. I notice she gave me the larger serving, bless her. She places the pot in the dishwasher, and I get two forks from a drawer. We sit on opposite sides not saying a word. I squint at the soup. I've never eaten Ramon noodles in my life. I twirl some on my fork and blow on it, seeing Ana doing the same. Carefully, I take a bite. Not a five-star meal, but I can't complain. It's food.

As I inhale everything in my bowl, I watch Ana. She keeps her eyes on her meal as she eats. Her shoulders are hunched again, and her cheeks and neck are a slight pink. The short time I've known her, I've not ever seen her be unsure of herself. All day, she's kept her head down, face hidden, and posture closed. I want her to snap out of it, but I understand that she's had a hard day, what with the fainting and almost being fired. She seems so fragile and ready to break at any moment. Observing her, I am now reluctant to mention that I know about her sexual abuse. I'm unwilling to cause her more pain today. We are visiting her father's grave tomorrow, for crying out loud. I know that must be hurting her on top of everything.

I'll tell her my history today, but I will not mention knowing hers. That conversation can wait. That decided, I return my attention to my meal and consider the current dilemma. Where the hell did her food go? She couldn't have eaten it all or thrown it out. She doesn't strike me as a wasteful person. If she donated it or had company, Sawyer would have reported it. What does she mean her lack of food is embarrassing? Is she having money problems? Does she think I'll look down on her for it? It hurts that she's got a low opinion of me. Have I ever given her reason to label me a snob? I like expensive things, sure, but I don't judge those who haven't had the same opportunities as me.

I've eaten my last noodle and briefly study the remaining water. Ana is drinking it straight from the bowl. With the echo of my mother scolding my siblings and me about manners, I follow Ana's lead. I lift the bowl to my lips and gulp down the warm liquid. It feels soothing, creating a warm spot in my stomach.

Ana reaches for my bowl, asking, "Finished?"

I hold tight and stand. "Let me. You cooked." I grab her empty bowl as well as mine and go to load them in the dishwasher. My back turned, I hear Ana's chair squeak.

"I'm going to change into something more comfortable. Be right back." I look over my shoulder to find her already gone.

Her dishwasher is somewhat full of dirty dishes and such. I find her dish detergent quickly under her sink. Her dishwasher is ancient compared to mine, but after some fiddling, it clicks, and the cycle starts.

Ana has not returned so I head to her bedroom. The door is open, and I take that to mean she doesn't mind my presence. Entering, I spot her sitting on her bed only wearing her underwear. A gray oversized knit sweater lays at the foot of the bed. She's bent over, examining the underside of her feet. I can see her forehead in the mirror reflection of her vanity. Gauze brown with what appears to be dried blood lays next to her. Concerned at the sight of blood, I step forward. At the sound of my entry, Ana sits and looks over her shoulder at me.

"Ana, what—" I cut off, seeing her reflection anew. She is no longer bent, and I see her front fully. On her left breast are obvious red marks, bruises almost. Ana instantly covers the hickeys with both hands when she follows my gaze. In three large strides, I stand in front of her. Her wrists are in my hands in a second, and I roughly yank them apart from her chest. The four hickeys contrast on her pale skin.

My throat is tight, and I feel like my chest is ripping in two. How can she do this to me? I'm frozen, unsure of what to do. Ana looks up at me in fear and eyes filling up with tears. What the fuck does she have to cry about? I'm the hurt one here. A tear slips down her cheek slowly. I follow it as it drips down her cheek. I decide to conceal my pain and unleash my anger at her. She wants a reason to cry? I'll give her one.

"What the fuck is this, Ana?" My grip on her tightens, and my knuckles turn white.

"Stop it, Christian," Ana pleads, trying to pull out of my grasp. "Calm down. Let me explain!"

I glare at her white face. "You cheated on me!" I drop her wrists as if she were venomous. After I discover I might love this stupid woman, I find out she's been fucking around behind my back. Does the universe enjoy toying with me? "I thought you were so fucking sweet and innocent! Well, fuck you!" _I thought I could love you._

"No, Christian, no! It's not like that!" Ana jumps to stand on her bed and grabs fistfuls of my shirt. I rip her hands off me and turn around. The need to get out of here is strong. My heart is pounding so loud in my ears, and my eyes burn. How can she hurt me like this? A tear falls against my will, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. Not eager to let her see, I walk out of her room and head straight to the door.

Ana follows me, yelling my name. I get my shoes and sit on her couch. What a fucking turn of events in a short amount of time. I wanted to save her but fuck her! She can deal with the asshole alone. I'm done with her.

"Christian, please. Don't go." Her bare toes inch into my view from tying the laces of one shoe. I untie the other, but before I get the shoe on, she yanks it from my hands. I look up, showing her my anger only. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. "I swear I didn't cheat on you. Please don't leave, Christian," she sobs.

"Your tit says different," I hiss, looking at the evidence, daring her to deny its existence. She is still only wearing her underwear. I reach for my shoe in her hands.

"No!" She flings my shoe to the kitchen and throws herself on me. Her lips touch mine, tasting of salt. I shove her from me, and she falls to her ass. "I wouldn't cheat, Christian, I swear!" She scrambles to her feet as I step around her.

"Fuck you."

Ana speedily moves in front of me and wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest. "Listen to me, Christian, please! I can explain," she cries, the sounds muffled. Her breath is hot against me.

"Fucking explain then!" I try to push her away, but she holds tight. Her tears are soaking my shirt.

"I promise I didn't do anything! I pushed him away when I noticed him. He didn't have my permission," Ana sniffles. "I was asleep."

"I'm sure you were," I snarl, grabbing her arms and pulling her off me. I'm free for a moment until she latches herself to me again like a leech.

"I'm telling the truth. I told you about my ex. He snuck in while I was sleeping and tried to have sex with me. I swear I didn't give him permission!"

I pause. Her ex? Westbrook. My anger vanishes as fast as it came. Fucking Westbrook tried to rape her again? Aghast, I ask for clarification, "He tried to force you?"

Ana nods, face still pressed to my chest. She sniffs loudly and whispers, "Yes."

"Are you serious?" I push on her shoulders gently, but she refuses to budge. "Let me see your face, baby," I say softly. She does so hesitantly. Her eyelashes are wet with tears, blue eyes bright red, and bottom lip trembling. It physically aches me to see her in this state, but I'm hit especially hard with guilt. I made her cry. Damn my temper! "Tell me everything."

She swallows thickly. "I was sleeping. I woke up because I felt something between my legs. He was, he was, um," Ana stutters, a fresh wave of tears falls from her eyes. I wait with dread. Hiccupping, she continues, "His face was between my legs. I didn't know he gave me hickeys until I saw them in the bathroom mirror."

"Everything else, baby. Tell me everything else. Did he, did he rape you?" I began leading her back into her bedroom by her hand. Her near nakedness is unsettling to me. If I get her covered, she might be more open to sharing every detail.

Trailing behind me, Ana answers, "No. I think he was just trying to get me to participate. I don't think he's capable of raping me."

I sit her on her bed and pick up the sweater. Ana lifts her arms and allows me to slip it on her. Her shoulders are left exposed, but she seems more at ease. The sleeves hang to her fingertips. "You don't think, Ana, but did you imagine he would go down on you when you were asleep? Don't defend a monster, Ana." I pull her hair out from under her sweater.

She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. At her lack of response, I ask, "When did this happen, baby?" I sit down next to her. She tilts slightly and leans against my arm. I eye the bloody gauze still on her bed.

"This morning. It's why I was late for work. I hid in my bathroom until I was sure he was gone."

Just this fucking morning. "Did this have something to do with you fainting today, do you think? Emotional stress, maybe?" I'm fucking killing this man.

"I don't know."

My gaze falls on the gauze again. "Care to explain that?"

Ana looks behind her and sighs. Her head falls forward until her forehead is supported by her knees. "I threw my snow globe at him to keep him from getting close to me. When I ran to hide, I stepped on the glass shards. It took me thirty minutes taking them out with my tweezers."

"What?" I get off the bed and kneel before her. "Show me."

She drops her feet in my lap. I lift one foot and see small incisions littering the underside of her foot. The other looks the same. "Ana, it looks like you took a cheese grater to your foot. What the heck did you do?"

"Um, some of the shards were in deep, so I used a razor to dig them out. I got all of them," she says, matter-of-factly while I look at her as if she had two heads.

"Baby, that's not how you do it. You can get an infection! We are going to the emergency." I stand. "Where do you keep your slacks?"

Ana whines, "No! Christian, I am not going to the hospital for nothing. It's fine. I'm not even bleeding anymore."

"Yes, you are."

She crosses her arms. "No! I'm staying right here."

"Don't be a child, Ana. You need to get your feet checked by a professional." I put my hands on my hips and tower over her.

Not backing down, she says, "I'm not a child! I just don't see the point in wasting everybody's time for something unimportant."

I take a deep breath in and out. "Baby, you can get an infection."

"So, I'll clean the cuts again. I'll be fine, and if I do end up getting an infection, you can tell me you told me so." She starts to rise.

Panicked, I force her to stay seated by placing my hands on her shoulders. "Don't stand! You'll hurt yourself." Ana looks up at me exasperated. It is only then I realize she isn't crying anymore. My face softens, and she looks at me suspiciously. I kiss her forehead. "Okay. No hospital. But you need to promise you will not stand or try to walk for the rest of the night. Otherwise, I'm taking you kicking and screaming. Deal?"

"Deal." Ana smiles like she won the lottery.

I smile back. I kiss her forehead again. "Okay. Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

"Under the sink, in the bathroom." I go and get it, along with the alcohol and a wet washcloth to wipe away debris.

In no time, I've got her feet clean and bandaged.

"I never took you as having a foot fetish," she giggles when I kiss her toes.

I roll my eyes. "If I had a foot fetish, I think you'd know it by now. I just adore your little feet with your little toes." I rise from the bed and remove her feet from my lap. The kit, alcohol, and washcloth in hand, I leave her bedroom and leave them on her bathroom counter.

Back in her room, I walk to her dresser and open the top drawer. As I anticipated—her undergarments drawer. I take out a pair of gray wool socks and return to my place at the foot of the bed. Carefully, I put the socks on Ana's feet, being mindful of her band-aids. When that is done, I look at my watch. Just barely six.

"If you get my laptop from the living room, we can watch a movie on it," Ana suggests.

"That sounds perfect. Be right back."

Less than a minute later, Ana has chosen a superhero movie to watch. I watch the Marvel logo appear on the small screen. "Didn't peg you for an action movie lover," I say, setting her ancient laptop on top of a pillow.

"Not generally, but I enjoy Marvel and DC. My dad loved the first Iron Man movie. He died before he could get to see the sequel and Phase One of the MCU. He was so excited to see his comic book heroes on the screen."

Surprised, I look to where she's reclined against her pillows. She doesn't ever mention her father willingly. "Do you watch them for him or you?"

She lifts her shoulders and lets them fall. "Maybe a bit of both. I do love Thor and Captain America. They're fine."

On the screen, men are entering a frozen spaceship thing. "Which of them are we watching?"

* * *

 _A/N: Longest chapter yet. Woo-hoo! I admire the authors who can write chapters 4k plus words on average. It's amazing._

 _I know I said we get Christian's background this chapter, but the chapter was getting long and that part didn't fit right. I'm including that for next chapter. Promise:)_

 _Like a broken record, thanks to all who fave'd, followed, reviewed. New thanks to those who tipped me on mistakes I made on past chapters. I try to catch them all, but they occasionally slip by. Feel free to comb this chapter and point me where to fix anything:) Constructive criticism never hurt anybody._


	14. Disclosure

**Disclaimer: I don't own the FSOG Trilogy. Rights belong to E. L. James**

* * *

 **Friday night, October 23**

The last time Cason came to see Aileen, his older sister, was more than a year ago. They weren't close, and they both preferred keeping their distances from each other. It was safer that way—for both, but mostly her. The only reason he was here, perched on the edge of her awfully soft couch and waiting for her to pour him a glass of wine, was simply because he'd gotten desperate.

For the second time ever, he deeply regretted taking those photos of his Rose. The first time they bit him in the ass, he'd been forced to take drastic measures that hurt Rose and himself. It's almost poetic that the second time happened on the five-year anniversary of the first time. He could still remember how broken Rose was for months following the aftermath, how she is still hurting.

He played with the black ring that once belonged to Rose's father. She didn't know he had it as she'd been led to believe it had been lost. Cason ran his thumb over the "I love you, Daddy" engraving. The ring had been a gift from Rose on Ray's fortieth birthday. Cason sometimes liked to pretend she'd given it to _him_. He always wore it on a chain and tucked under his shirt.

The sudden click-clack of heels coming closer startled him. He tucked the ring back into hiding in his shirt.

Cason straightened in his seat as Aileen walked to him with two wine glasses filled to the max in each hand. She wasn't smiling but given that she recently went under the knife for fillers in her face, she might have for all he knew.

"Thanks," he said as she handed a glass to him. He drank all the wine in seconds, hardly noticing the slight burn in his throat. His sister raised a perfectly drawn eyebrow in question. "I'm having a rough day," he explained.

She nodded once, sat on the single-seater directly across from him, and placed her still full glass on the glass coffee table between them. "As I expected. Your separation from Rose is takings its toll. Shit looks better than you."

He refrained from glaring. If he turned nasty, she'd kick him out before giving him advice on how to move forward. "Rose isn't the problem," he stressed, pausing briefly for effect, "her photos are missing." At his sister's blank stare, he clarified, "The ones I took of her when she was fifteen."

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. "What? I thought you had them in your safe."

He dropped his head in his hands. "I did. I noticed them missing today. Last I checked them was last night, so I know someone broke into my place while I was at work. What fucking gets me is that nothing else was out of place. They knew where to look! How would they know where to look, or what my code to my safe is? I don't have it written down!"

He looked at his sister when she leaned over the coffee table to touch his wrist. She paused for a moment to study the tattoo of a red rose on his forearm. "You didn't have that before. In honor of your Rose," she asked, tapping her claw-like red nail on a thorn. "You should have trimmed those early."

"Aileen! I'm losing my mind here! I don't know what to do," Cason yelled, pulling away from her reach.

"Maybe Rose is playing with your mind. Did you consider that she might have taken them and plans to blackmail you to stay away from her?" Aileen grabbed her glass of wine and took a sip. Cason didn't miss that her foot was tapping. She used to do that when they were younger when she was anxious.

"I asked her, and she denies taking them. I don't see her doing that. She needs me."

"Is she still rebelling with that pretty boy? She could have told him everything," Aileen says, stilling her foot upon noticing his attention.

Finding his visit to his sister's pointless now, Cason stood. "She wouldn't do that, either. Thanks for nothing."

Aileen set her glass down and stood as well. "You're welcome. Cason, perhaps all you can to do is wait and see. You face isn't shown in any of those photos. Sure, you were in possession of child pornography, but you can claim they were planted. They didn't take your flash drive, right? You haven't mentioned it."

Shoulders drooping, he said, "I checked as soon as I saw the photos were gone. The flash drive is still where I left it." He picked up the coat he'd thrown over the back of the couch. After shrugging it on, he made his way to the foyer. He could hear his sister heels tapping on the floor behind him.

"That's good. Just wait and see. I'm sure you're concerned over nothing. Call me when you find out more, Cason. I promise to help you with whatever happens."

He paused at the giant front door. His sister almost crashed into him. He laughed while steadying her. "You're fifty-two. Lose the six-inch heels before you break a hip, grandma," he teased. She was older than him by ten years, and it was his right to tease her as her little brother. Not that they had a strong brother-sister relationship. There were wrinkles they were still ironing out together.

"You of all people understand that age is just a number," she snapped, unamused.

"C'mon, Aileen. Dress your age. Get rid of the short dresses, skirts, and leather shit you have in your closet. Age gracefully," he mocked. He stepped away from her as she raised her hand to smack him.

"I told you to stop calling me that. I haven't gone by that name for more than thirty years," she complained, stomping her foot like a child.

Cason rolled his eyes. "Right, sorry. Goodnight, Elena. I'll keep you updated."

* * *

He knew he was being followed. Cason eyed the blue sedan that had been tailing him from his sister's house. He figured whoever was inside the car had probably been following him around all day. He was close to his apartment, but he took a wrong turn, then another. Switching lanes and slowing down, he hoped to be able to come up side by side to see the driver. Fear settled into his bones when they went behind him and began tailgating him.

Desperate to lose them, he decided to start heading for the police station. He could park and wait until they left. When he signaled left, relief nearly drowned him when they signaled right. He took the turn and watched in the rearview mirror as more distance was put between them. Relaxed, he started to head home.

This day was getting to him, and he couldn't wait until he could get home. He was going to play Rose's videos. After a day that he's had, he wanted to go to her apartment. Sadly, he was sure that she was with Grey, or he was with her. Something about Grey worried him. Cason had looked him up after meeting him and that Grey was rich, which pissed him off. He couldn't get to him as he always had security on him. He'd noticed that security man sitting close to them at the deli.

He knew Rose wasn't attracted by money, but what girl would say no when they were given everything they wanted? Grey could get her that expensive convertible she's always wanted. Set her up in a nice apartment building or move her into his penthouse. Well, Cason could to—not the penthouse—but he didn't want to spoil her. He liked that she depended on him. Hopefully, she learns her lesson when she starts starving now that he's not helping her with her rent.

Come to think of it, maybe Cason should also take away the furniture he bought her. She'll be gone all day tomorrow; he can confiscate the rest of her things then. She can't afford to buy new furnishings. It's a good thing he decided not to go visit Ray.

In front of his apartment complex, Cason pulled up to his designated parking spot. After locking the car and setting the alarm, he headed inside the building. In the lobby, the night security nodding to him. He smiled stiffly and entered the elevator. At his floor, Cason got off.

Standing in front of his door, Cason felt the worry of the missing photos come back. He had no clue who could have taken them. Sure, he's been robbed before, but it was obvious upon entry. This time, he was sure if he hadn't wanted to look at Rose frozen in her innocence, he would have been none the wiser they were gone.

He put his key in the knob and frowned when he felt the door was unlocked. Rolling his eyes, he remembered he'd been so panicked after talking with Rose that he'd neglected to lock the door behind him. He went into his apartment and shut and locked the door, not reaching for the light. He just wanted to go to bed after this long day he's had.

He'd taken five steps what felt like a blanket unexpectedly covered his entire head. Just as he tried yelling, something hard hit him in his stomach. Air left him, and he hunched over gasping. A hand wrapped around his neck. Pain exploded in his nose as the toe of a shoe connected with his face. Still gasping from the punch to his stomach, he could only groan as the cloth covering his face became wet. The hand still on his neck forced him down to his knees. Cason felt two punches land on his kidneys.

He tried to punch back, but someone seized his arm and wrenched it behind his back. Fearing that his arm was about to be broken, he begged, "Please. Let me g—"

The attacker shoved Cason down on his back, and his words cut off. Blind, Cason felt a heavy weight on his chest, his arms pinned at his sides. He breathed in deeply, about to start begging again, when more blows rained on his face and head. The cloth over his head was soaked. The metallic taste of blood was strong in his mouth. The pain was everywhere. A cloud enveloped him, but he was still conscious.

When the fists stopped coming, he tried to catch his breath. He spat blood out and tried speaking again. "Take everything," he managed to get out. Feeling no new pain, he sagged in relief.

Hands wrapped around his throat and began squeezing. Cason sputtered and jerked. A fuzz came over him. His face was bugling. His eyes were going to pop out of his head! Then, the hands released, and he gasped. Air entered his lungs again. Then, the hands returned. Then, left and came back. He wanted it to end! Why was he being tortured?

For the final time, the hands released. As his awareness came back, the weight above him shifted.

A voice filled with warning almost made him piss himself. "Do not touch her again. She is not yours. She has never been yours. Touch her again, and I'll fucking kill you. With my bare hands, I'll kill you. Understand?"

Cason tried to nod, but his head felt weighed down.

The attacker only said, "Good," and then the weight on his chest was gone. Soon after, Cason blacked out.

* * *

 **Christian's POV (Saturday evening)**

Holding hands, Ana and I step off the elevator and enter my home.

"I think it's so cool you have your own elevator," Ana remarks, leaning into my side. "You don't have to wait for it or suffer walking in on extreme displays of PDAs."

I walk us to the kitchen, saying, "Suffer? What have you witnessed?"

"I went out with friends to have a drink. I came home around midnight and found this couple having sex in the elevator. They were an older couple, too." Ana shudders. She shrugs out of her jean jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair as we pass the dining table.

I laugh and pull out a stool for Ana to sit at the kitchen island. "What did you do? Stay and watch?" I jest, opening the fridge. Ana hops onto the stool and places her elbows on the white granite countertops.

She scowls. "I took the stairs, sicko. They didn't even stop when they saw me. They were higher than a kite."

"Care for something to drink?" I ask, grabbing a water bottle for myself.

"Do you have tea?"

I close the fridge, then enter the pantry. "Twining's English Breakfast Tea, right? Yes, I do," I confirm, spying it on a shelf overhead. I retrieve a tea bag and toss it towards the counter.

As I search for the tea kettle I recently had Gail purchase, Ana says, "You remembered."

Crouching to search into the cupboards under the island, I admit, "I hoped you'd visit, and I wanted to have your favorite tea. I've noticed that you're a tea drinker. I want you to feel welcome in my home." I peek over the counter and find her trying to hide a grin behind her hand.

"Mission accomplished," she states, appearing bashful.

"Good." I discontinue my search for a tea kettle, and I stand. If I were Gail, where would I put a tea kettle?

"What are you looking for, Christian?"

I point to the unopened tea bag beside the fruit display. "The tea kettle," I admit. "My housekeeper does the heavy lifting in the kitchen. I don't know where she keeps anything."

Chin resting on her closed fist, Ana's lips pursed as if she's holding back a smile. Her eyes dart to the stove and back to me. In a sing-song voice, she suggests, "Maybe she left it on top of the stove for you because she doesn't want you snooping through her kitchen."

I spin around, and, sure enough, the glass tea kettle is sitting pretty on the stovetop. My ears redden. "Oh."

I avoid her eyes as I pick it up. "Don't feel bad, Christian. My dad never knew his way around the kitchen either. And it was his childhood home."

Filling up the kettle with tap water, I confess, "I don't have the time to cook for myself or the skill. The only thing I know how to do in the kitchen is heating up the prepped meals Mrs. Jones cooked for me, and I need to follow her instructions." I turn away from the sink and place the teapot on top of the stove. I stare at the dials, wondering which setting is best for heating up water.

"Set it to medium, pumpkin," Ana instructs. I smile at her in thanks. After being sure the flame is on, I go to Ana.

"Well, that was embarrassing," I joke, picking her up bridal style and exiting the kitchen. Ana squeals in my arms and holds onto my shoulders. My destination is the couch.

Once there, I drop her. She laughs as she bounces on the cushion. I take a seat next to her and pull her close. She cuddles into my side and rests her head on my arm. After kicking off her converse, she brings her feet up on the couch. Her knees touch my thigh. I hold her hand and sigh, content.

"One day," Ana speaks, breaking the silence after a moment, "you're going to play me something on that fancy piano of yours."

I glance at the instrument set in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. "Why do you assume I know how to play?"

She snorts. "Kitchen aside, you wouldn't own something you didn't know how to use. You're not a shmuck."

I chuckle. "Thanks, I guess."

"How long have you been playing?"

Moving my free arm behind my head, I answer, "I learned when I was six."

"That's impressive. Did you want to learn, or did your parents want you to learn?"

"A little bit of both," I state. "My parents wanted my siblings and me to be able to play an instrument, and they let us decide which ones. I figured it would be easier learning to play the piano as my mother and grandfather already knew how." I close my eyes and relax.

"What instruments did your brother and sister pick?"

"Elliot, the guitar. Mia, the cello."

"Did your parents require you to do anything else?"

"Sport and language. Again, our choice. Except for Mia. My dad wanted her to learn self-defense, so he had her begin karate. That lasted one whole summer when she was nine until she demanded they let her be a ballerina. I remember my little sister went on strike, stating she wouldn't leave her room for anything unless they gave in. She ended up hating ballet and settled for volleyball."

"At least she got to do what she wanted. What about you and your brother?"

"Elliot chose football, and Spanish as his language. He only chose Spanish because he had a crush on a Latina girl at school. I spent my time with kickboxing, boxing, track, and rowing. My sister and I learned French."

"French?"

Smiling, I say, " _Cela vous surprend-il, mon amour_?"

"So, you are perfect," Ana affirms.

I open my eyes and look down at her. "No. I can't cook to save my life. I'm obsessive, controlling, jealous, and a long ass list of all the things wrong with me. I'm far from perfect," I state nonchalantly. I glance at the piano. "Would you like me to play you something right now?"

She burrows her face under my chin. "Next time. I don't want to move."

"Okay."

Ana speaks up after a silent minute. "Christian? I want to say thank you for coming with me to see my dad. I know that isn't something you do with someone you just started dating, but thank you, nonetheless."

I bring her hand up to my face, then kiss her knuckles once. "Your very welcome, sunshine. Whenever you need me, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm your boyfriend. I take the title seriously. I had a grand time spending the day with you."

"It means a lot to me, Christian. Seriously, thank you. If you weren't there, I would have been stuck with Case."

I stiffen slightly, and I shift around in my seat. "Would that have been distressing for you?"

"Yeah. The past times we've gone to visit my father's grave, Cason acted like an ass to me. He didn't like that I cried, spoke to my dad, or that I left flowers. He always told me that my dad was dead, and all my tears and gestures were for nothing." She sniffs. "I am really happy he didn't come with us today."

I squeeze her hand. "Me too. If I'd heard him talking to you like that, I would have choked him."

A sudden loud whistle startles us. "Your tea," I say, releasing her hand and rising. "Stay. I'll be right back."

In the kitchen, I wonder if now—given that we are on the topic of Westbrook being an asshole—would be a good time as any to speak to Ana. I will not bring up the photos, videos, or her abuse. This will solely be about my need to let her know. If I'm willing to disclose that I was abused, maybe Taylor's right in that it'll help her understand that she was, too.

The psychiatrist before Flynn told me outright to take off my blindfold and realize I was Elena's puppet. I cursed at him and fought back malevolently. He was fired, too. Flynn has tried to explain that I would sing a different tune if it happened to my son, but I just walked out. It took Ana coming into my life, me falling for her hard, that the truth punched me in the gut.

Last night, I watched Ana sleep. I don't believe I would have realized that Elena's and my relationship was wrong. Though I briefly entertained the possibility that I deserved the abuse, I had to throw that argument away. If I gave excuses, Ana would surely use them, as well. I can't have that. She needs to be free of that mother fucker.

Slowly, I walk back to Ana with her weak tea. She sits with her legs crisscrossed on the couch, unsuspecting. She smiles and accepts the mug I hand over.

"It's very hot," I caution. Despite my warning, a pink tongue comes out and dips into the tea. Not a second later, it disappears back into her mouth.

"Fuck," she mumbles and sets the tea on the side table. Seeing my expression of exasperation, she says, "I know, I know. You told me so."

"How's your tongue?" I ask, sitting next to her.

She sticks it out. The tip is slightly red but nothing to be concerned about. When her tongue vanishes back inside her mouth, I lean forward and kiss her. Her lips move against mine slowly. I tease her lips with my tongue, and she pulls away. "Thanks for the tea," she says.

"You're welcome."

She leans back into me, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is soft and, dare I say, innocent. It also needs to end if I plan on speaking to her today.

"Ana," I say against her lips, "I need to talk to you."

Not pulling away, she asks, "About what?"

I break away regretfully. "Something very important to me that I think you need to know."

Her surprise and curiosity plain as day on her face, she nods. "Okay."

"Can you promise me that you'll have an open mind and hear me out completely?"

She blinks and raises an eyebrow. "Pinky promise," she replies, wrapping her dainty pinky around my much larger one. A firm shake, and then she lets go.

I smile at her sweetness. I twist around until I'm seated with my leg under me and I'm facing her fully. She mirrors my posture. "Okay," I start, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, "I know I told you I've never had a relationship with a woman that was romantic. It was always sexual." She nods, mouth twisted. "I began having sex when I was fifteen."

"As have I, and I'm sure plenty of other people have, too," she interrupts, grabbing hold of my hand.

"Please, baby, you promised you'd listen." I continue after taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. Can she notice how serious this conversation is for me? How uncomfortable talking about this makes me? Like a band-aid. "I lost my virginity to my mother's friend. She was thirty-seven at the time." Ana turns her face away, and I am unable to see her expression. "We had an affair for six years. Though it ended nine years ago, we kept contact throughout the years. We are not on speaking terms now. I considered this woman my only true friend, the only person that really knew me, but, recently, I can't stand to even think of her." I involuntarily shudder. From our intertwined fingers, Ana feels it.

She looks at me. In her eyes, I spy pain. "Does your mother know about you and her friend?"

"A bit of it. The woman's husband found out and told my parents. He apparently felt the need to explain to them why he gave their youngest son a black eye." I take my fingers from Ana's and pull her on my lap. She's pliant in my arms. "They all believe the affair lasted a few months after I turned twenty. My mother and she aren't friends anymore, regardless. Not that I blame my mother. She couldn't get past the fact that her friend could have intercourse with me. She'd known me since I was six. My mother was paranoid that her friend had had her eye on me when I was a minor."

"She wasn't wrong," Ana points out, fingering my watch.

"You're right."

"Is that why the relationship ended?"

"No. We had already decided to stop our physical relationship for a month prior to her husband finding out."

"How did he find out?"

"That is still a mystery." Though I suspect Elena told him in a gamble to get him to hit her, so she'll have my attention again. Linc is a loose-cannon, but she never expected that he'll go after me instead.

"Why did you lie to your parents about how long the abuse started?" Her finger traces the outline of my watch.

I watch her finger make circles. "You said abuse," I whisper. At her lack of response, I answer her question. "At the time, I didn't see the point in hurting my parents more. They lost their closest friends because of me. I also didn't want the woman to get into trouble. Yes, I wasn't the legal age of consent when our affair began, but I was arrogant and thought highly of myself. I mean, can you be abused if you wanted it? That's how I saw it, so I lied for her."

"Why aren't you speaking to her now?" Her finger follows the big hand.

"Months ago, she tried to make a pass at me. I did not appreciate it. I thought of her as my mentor, my friend. Yes, we had sex for years, but I got bored with her. As a teenager, I was horny all the time, and she threw her self at me. When I became a man, I didn't need her anymore."

The apartment is quiet for a moment as Ana leans against me. I'm hugging her tightly, wondering what's going through her mind. Though our introductions to sex are similar, I recognize that our experiences are vastly different. Ana loved her abuser. I loved the sex, but I could have eventually figured how to get some if I didn't have Elena.

"Why did you have sex with her then? Didn't you go to high school? Couldn't you have found a girl around your age?"

I ponder that for a moment. Not expecting her to ask me that, I don't have an answer ready. Honesty is the best option, I guess. "Do you know what haphephobia means?" She shakes her head no. "It means fear of being touched. I developed the phobia when I was a child."

Ana stiffens in my arms. She meets my eyes. "I'm touching you right now. I've touched many times. Why didn't you tell me, Christian?" She tries to get off me, but my arms keep her where I want.

"You don't bother me, sunshine. I know you won't hurt me." Grasping her hands, I place them flat on my chest. A warmth spreads where her palms are. "There is something about you that I find disarming. I think that's why I'm fine with your touch, but I haven't discussed this with my psychiatrist. He'll be able to make sense of it."

"You see a psychiatrist? To treat your phobia?" Ana bites her lip.

Unable to resist, I steal a brief kiss. "Yes, but also because I have other issues. I suffer from night terrors."

"You were abused as a child, weren't you?" She leans forward until her forehead touches mine.

"Yes. Before I was adopted, my biological mother had a pimp who enjoyed beating me and putting out his cigarettes on my skin." Ana gasps and begins examining my exposed forearms. I release one of her hands and pull down the collar of my shirt to show her one scar on my collarbone. Her eyes fill with tears.

"That's what those scars are from? I thought it was because of chicken pox." She hesitantly touches the exposed scar with her pinky. "Your mother let him?"

A lone tear falls from her eye. My voice cracks as I answer. "The crackwhore was busy being too high to be able to protect me or feed me."

"I'm so sorry, Christian. No child deserves to be hurt. How did you get saved?"

"The crackwhore overdosed. I was stuck with her body for four days until police arrived. My mother, Grace, was the doctor on call. She took a liking to me. She and her husband, my dad, adopted me shortly after."

Ana repositions herself on my lap. She straddles me with both legs on either side of me. Then, she hugs me. I reciprocate and bury my face on the side of her neck. I don't cry. I've lived with my demons. I may not have conquered them, but we've lived companionably for a while. I accept her comfort, feeling light. Of all the therapy sessions I've had to endure, I've not ever felt so at peace as right now after unloading to Ana.

Ana jerks in my arms. She doesn't make any noise, but I know she's crying for the little boy who'd faced such horror.

After some time, when I've become lethargic, I say, "The haphephobia is why I couldn't have sex with girls my age. My mother's friend knew of my struggle. I felt safe in knowing that." I stroke Ana's hair. "That's all for tonight, love."

Still holding me, she leans back a little until she can see my face. Her face is wet. "Thank you for telling me. I know that couldn't have been easy."

Pecking her nose twice, I reply, "Thank you for being you." She smiles. "I know you planned on going to your place tonight, but do you want to spend the night? We can see that movie we missed yesterday. I can burn down the kitchen trying to cook for you. How does that sound?"

Ana giggles. "Hold the burning kitchen, and I'll graciously accept."

"Done," I say.

"I have an overnight bag in my car. Let me go get it." Ana slides off my lap. She grabs her converse and begins slipping one on.

"Overnight bag? I like a girl who's prepared, sunshine. Points to you." I take my phone from my pants pocket. After sending a message to Sawyer to grab her bag, I kiss the side of Ana's neck. "I have Sawyer getting your things."

She is tying the laces of her second shoe. "Thank you, but Sawyer doesn't have my car keys."

"You left them in the foyer when you arrived this morning, remember?"

"Again, thanks, but Sawyer is not a butler. I'll be fast, especially using that private elevator of yours." She stands.

Before she can step away, I quickly grab her and toss her on her back on the couch. I support my weight over her with an arm by her head. "The staff elevator is faster. Sawyer is most likely already on his way back. Now just sit and wait."

She pushes against my chest. When I don't budge, she laughs. "You're impossible, you know that? Get off me."

Slowly, I do. She sits up and fluffs her hair. "Would you like a comb to take out those tangles," I ask, seeing her trying to pick at a knot inconspicuously.

"Please?"

"Come on." I grab her hand and pull her to stand. Not letting go, I lead her into my room and into the bathroom. I hand her my comb. Now that her place in my life is looking more permanent, I think I should have a hairbrush for her. And some other feminine beauty products that I don't have, for obvious reasons.

Ana thanks me and sits at the foot of my bed, starting a painful process of running the comb through her tangles. I watch her attempt one knot until I take back the comb and sit behind her. Wordlessly, I divide her hair down the middle and get to work on the right side. I finish fast. If I wasn't planning on shower sex tonight, I would braid her hair.

A knock on the door captures our attention. Sawyer enters following my nod and sets a green duffel bag on the bed. "Mr. Grey. Ms. Steele," he greets, giving Ana a friendly smile. I'd rebuke him if I wasn't afraid Ana would scold me right back in front of him.

"Mr. Sawyer," she responds, mimicking his formal tone. "What happened to your knuckles?"

Sawyer glances at his hands. His knuckles were bruised. He looks to me for direction, but I have none to offer him. I know what happened, but that doesn't mean I want Ana to know. He grins assuredly at Ana. "Part of the job, Ms. Steele. We deal with crazies 24/7. Have a good night, miss. Sir," he nods and walks out of the room.

"Crazies?" Ana looks at me with her eyebrows raised in question.

* * *

 _A/N: Big fat thank yous to everyone who took the time to review, fave, and follow! And thanks to the guest who catches and points out my mistakes. Feel free to do so with this chapter as well:)_

"Cela vous surprend-il, mon amour?" _translates to"_ Does this surprise you, my love?" _I hope the French isn't wrong. If it is, blame google translate :)_


	15. Insecurities

**_Disclaimer: Do not own FSOG Trilogy!_**

* * *

 **APOV**

 _If I had a view like this_ , I think as I stare out the floor-to-ceiling window in Christian's living room, _I would never leave_. Adding the Space Needle to my "someday" list, I sip my hot tea. The warmth from it eases some tension from my shoulders. I wanted to stargaze for a bit as Christian sleeps, but it's overcast tonight. All I can view is the bright lights of the city's attractions. The view is still incredible.

Holding the green mug firmly in two hands, I carefully sink to my knees, then on my butt. Crossing my legs, I take another small drink. Christian's penthouse is dark and quiet. It's nice and comforting. Given that its Saturday night, where I live people are always making a fuss when I'm trying to sleep. Christian said that he had another apartment for his staff—Taylor, Mrs. Jones, and Sawyer. They must be asleep because I've not heard a peep since I got out of bed to make myself tea.

A raindrop splatters on the glass in front of me. I follow it as it glides down the glass until disappearing. More drops follow, and soon fog begins to form. Watching the Space Needle fade into the mist, I set my mug down and draw my legs up close to my chest. My chin on my knees and my arms around my calves, I recall how Christian and I spent the rest of the evening after his confession.

At the concession stand at the movie theater, Christian told me he'd never had a date. It explained why he bought half a dozen overpriced candies, a large popcorn, two large soft drinks, and a large slurpy for us to share. Seeing his child-like eagerness, I did my best to finish my half of everything. However, my determination did not matter, because Christian was like a vacuum with the popcorn and slurpy. He even ate four of the candies and still had room for dinner. After the movie, we got Chinese. I don't know where he put it all away. Christian enjoyed himself so much he's declared the last Saturday of every month as our movie date night. I secretly swooned at his planning for the future, _our_ future, together.

At our date's conclusion, Christian kissed me so tenderly my knees gave out. I'd never been kissed like that. We've kissed before, but he's never put so much emotion into it. Our past kisses were passion-filled, not unlike every other guy I've kissed before Christian. In that elevator, however, with his hands in my hair and me on my tip toes, it was as if he was putting the feelings he couldn't say to me into his kiss. I felt cherished and loved, unlike every other guy I've kissed before him. The shock of it jarred me, and my legs failed.

I think I'm falling for Christian, and it terrifies me to think he might feel the same.

He is so strong and brave and amazing and extraordinary and ambitious. He made a name for himself, put his mark on the world. He rose above the trauma of his early life. Even rising higher after that witch used his vulnerability to manipulate him. He's so sure of himself he was willing to share his life story with me just because he thought it was something I should know. How can I stand next to a man like that?

After everything he's been through, he deserves someone who can take him higher. All I'll ever do is bring him down. I don't want him tied to someone dirty like me.

Someone whose mother made the conscious decision to abandon her daughter in favor for her fiancé. Someone who didn't appreciate the hard days at work her father put in to be able to put a roof over her head. Someone who daydreamt of a happily ever after with a man twenty years older from the first day she met him, a man who was like a brother to her father. Someone who spent her days figuring out how to get this man alone, so she can confess her fantasies that only a thirteen-year-old could dream of. Someone who wasn't selfish and didn't bare her soul to try to sway him to wait for her till she was old enough.

I definitely don't want Christian tied to someone who—at the age of fifteen—gave her virginity to a man twenty years older just because he gave her attention.

I'm poison to Christian. He's worth thousands of me.

A tear falls and runs a warm path down my cheek. I sniff and wipe my cheek. Why is Christian wasting his time with me? What does he see in me that has him keeping me around? Maybe it's just my pretty face and open legs, as Case says.

"Sunshine?" I startle and wipe away all stray tears. Christian calls out again from his room. "Baby, where are you?" Given his sleepy muffled voice, I think he's just realized I'm not in bed with him.

Not making a peep, I rise quickly and wince when a little bit of tea sloshes out. I shake out my wet fingers and head towards the bedroom.

"Ana?" Now, I hear a slight panic in his voice. "Anastasia!"

Christian rushes out of his room. Upon spotting me, his shoulders sag in relief. It's dark in the hall, but I can make out Christian's silhouette coming closer to me. He makes to wrap his arms around me, and I hold my mug away in one hand to prevent it spilling further.

In his arms, I breathe him in. He holds me tightly, resting his cheek on the crown of my head. Sighing into my hair, he says, "I thought you left."

"I'd never leave without letting you know." I rub his back soothingly.

He releases me. "You did," he accuses. "The first time you spent the night, remember?"

"Yes, and I already told you why. My friends needed me." I sidestep him and enter the bedroom. "I didn't mean to traumatize you," I tease. His room is faintly illuminated by the floor-to-ceiling windows at the corner. I sip my tea.

Christian grumbles under his breath and closes the bedroom door. "Where were you?"

"I couldn't sleep. I made myself a tea." I set said tea on the nightstand. "I hope that's okay."

"Oh." I eye Christian as he watches me sit on the bed. "Um, of course, it's okay. Do whatever you want here, Ana. You don't need my permission." I smile my thanks.

After settling himself on the bed next to me, he admits quietly, "I thought you'd left because of what I told you earlier."

I lie on my side facing him. He is on his back staring at the ceiling. Moving closer until my head is on his pillow, I say, "I'm won't lie to you, Christian. That does play a role in why I couldn't sleep."

Eyes still above, he inhales deeply. Exhaling, he asks, "Why?"

"It was just very unsettling to hear, Christian."

"Why?"

I choose my words carefully. "It was heart-wrenching to hear someone I've grown to care deeply about was severely abused as a child and teenager."

"Should I have not told you?"

I think for a minute, then say, "This is something you wanted me to know. You felt it was important for me to know. I'm glad you trust me. I'm just having trouble swallowing it. But that isn't your burden."

"Sounds like it is my burden to have, Ana, if it's keeping you from sleep."

Hesitantly, I place my hand on his cheek and shift his face towards me. "I care about you very much, Christian. You've already been through enough. Let me handle this, okay?"

I can't quite see his eyes, but after a tense moment of us facing each other, he nods and kisses my palm. "You know, if you had anything you needed to tell me, I could take it."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," I say, leaning forward and pressing my lips to his.

Not missing a beat, Christian rolls on top of me. His hands make quick work on the buttons of my top, and he rises enough for me to slip it off. His lips now on my neck, I feel him hook his thumbs in my shorts and underwear. As his lips trail down my chest to my boobs, he slides my bottoms down to my knees, and I kick them off. He cups my boobs in both of his hands and traces a nipple with his tongue. I moan and arch my back.

On the nightstand on my side, my phone chirps and the screen lights up. I pause, and Christian lifts his head. If it was an emergency, whoever it was would have called, not texted. I decide to ignore it till morning, or after. Smiling, I grip Christian's head and pull him up so I can kiss him.

As he reaches down our body and touches me, my stupid phone chirps again. And again. After the hundredth darn chirp it seems, I groan, exasperated. Not moving away or halting his fingers movements, Christian reaches with his free hand and grabs my phone. He starts sucking on my neck after handing it to me.

Biting back a moan, I open my phone and see all messages come from Kate.

Kate: A! Me & bro having party 4 Halloween!

Kate: On Halloween R rents place! They R going out of town!

Kate: 8!

Kate: Wearing costumes!

Kate: Bring your BF! Want 2 meet him!

Kate: Invite his bro & sis!

Kate: Short notice BUT having costume contest!

Kate: R U sleeping?

Kate: Ana?

Kate: Im texting til U answer!

Kate: ANA!

Kate: WAKE UP!

Kate: Is BF there?

Kate: Aaaaaaannnnnnnnnaaaaaaa!

Kate: ANAANAANAANAANAANAANAANA!

"Oh, my God, she's drunk," I say. Christian moves down my body and kisses my stomach. "Hey, do you have anything planned for next Saturday?"

His lips still on my skin, he replies cheekily, "Yes, I'm spending it with you. Did I forget to mention that?"

"Great! We can do couple costumes!" I text Kate back.

Ana: Wasn't sleeping. With Christian. Yes, to party. Stop texting me!

"Costumes? For what? Ana?" Christian pinches my butt.

"Ow! My best friend invited us and your siblings to a Halloween party at her parents' house." I place my phone under a pillow. "And we are going!" I practically sing. Parties are usually too exhausting for me, but I'd love to show off my hot boyfriend.

Christian hovers over me. "Like the idea of costumes but a costume _party_? I'm a little too old for that."

"Even for Halloween? And why not party? What else are costumes good for when you can't go trick-or-treating?"

He thrusts his pelvis against me multiple times. "Think hard."

"Oh, God," I moan. Is he into role play?

"Yes?" Hearing the smirk in his voice, I spank his ass playfully. His surprised gasp makes me laugh.

"So, should we start brainstorming couples' themes?" I ask innocently. Between my legs, I sense Christian lowering his PJ bottoms. I lick my lips in anticipation and spread my thighs wider.

"Hold that thought," Christian grunts, slamming into me.

* * *

 _A/N: So sorry it's been a while since I last updated. Thanks for all who've taken the time to review, fave, follow, and PM:)_

 _Also, any ideas for costumes (couples or not) for Christian and Ana? Let me know via review or PM:)_


	16. Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

**_DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN FSOG TRILOGY!_**

 _A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave me ideas for costumes for our favorite couple. Alas, I could only choose one, and I had help from the ladies on FB deciding which one our couple will wear. As always, big thanks for all who took the time to review, PM, fave, and follow:)_

 **Mention of pedophilia! I will put *WARNING* before and *END WARNING* after. Careful reading.**

* * *

Sunday (Oct. 25th)

CPOV

Ana bounces on her heels and points to a store across the street. "A Halloween store! Maybe we can get our costumes today. Come on!" Without waiting for my reply, she turns on her heels and walks back to the intersection we just crossed.

I glance longingly at a coffee shop just down the street, then to her retreating back. Resigned to wait for a cup of coffee, I follow her. Sawyer waits for me to pass, and I hear his footsteps some feet behind me. Taylor has the morning and afternoon off; he is spending it with his daughter.

Today is chilly, but Ana wanted to go for a morning walk. To breathe in the fresh air and walk off the heavy breakfast she made for us, I believe she said. She also wanted to see my neighborhood. As much as I wanted to spend the day with her in my arms in bed or the media room—have a lazy day for once—I figured seeing her smile was worth sacrificing an hour of our morning. She's been too sad the last couple of days for my liking. I want to see my girl happy, truly happy.

At the curb, we wait for the pedestrian light. Ana rocks back and forth on her heels. Noticing her borrowed scarf (my scarf) had fallen from one shoulder, I wrap it around her neck twice then let the much-shortened ends hang down her front. She smiles prettily at me when I finish.

Eager girl that she is, she had the foresight to pack a bag in case she decided to spend the night after all. She wore her usual coat over a casual shirt and skin-tight jeans. Adorning her feet are the five-inch heel boots I bought her last week. When I questioned her wearing them for a stroll around the block, she shut me up by stating they made her feel pretty. I've now made a commitment to myself to tell Ana she is beautiful every time I see her. Won't be hard, considering she takes my breath away every time I look at her.

The green walking man appears, and Ana holds onto my elbow. When we step up the curb and onto the sidewalk on the other side, her hand falls to her side. I quickly thread my fingers through hers. Our steps in sync with Sawyer trailing after us, we pass four storefronts until coming to the one with the word "Halloween" spray-painted on the window. Entering, I ask if she has an idea for a costume.

After wishing a "Good morning" to a cashier, she says, "What are your thoughts on coordinating our costumes?"

"A couple's theme, you mean?" She nods excitedly. "As in, everyone will know we went together in matching costumes because we are a couple and every guy will know you are off-limits? I am _definitely_ fine with that, sunshine."

She smiles from ear-to-ear. "Great!" We start for the aisles marked adult costumes. "Before we start, is there anything specific you are against wearing? What are your hard-limits on costume shopping, so to speak?" She asks innocently.

If I'd been drinking something, I might have choked. Hearing her say _that_ transports me back to my office back in GEH headquarters after I saw those damned photos of my Ana.

I feel like I'm choking. I loosen the scarf around my neck with my free hand. I've apparently also stopped walking as Ana is some steps ahead of me with our hands keeping us connected. She's forced to halt when our outstretched arms refuse her any more distance. I'm certainly not going to let her go. Ever.

"Christian? What's wrong?" She looks behind me, probably to Sawyer who I believe is now stationed at the entrance. At my lack of response, she moves closer to me and tries to peer into my eyes. "Christian?"

I see her in front of me, but I also see those awful sickening photos. I should have fucked up his shit, not Sawyer. I should have beaten him to death then pissed on his dead body. Damn Taylor and Sawyer for talking me into letting Sawyer scare him away. He should be dead and rotting in Hell! I've read a medieval torture practice was rat torture. I'm sure I could have that arranged. Hell, I'd light the end of the bucket myself.

A shake on my arm rouses me from that picture. Her soft voice registers in my mind and suddenly I'm fully focused on Ana standing before me.

In a flash, I have her crushed in my arms, her face smashed against my chest. She yelps in surprise as I hug her fiercely. I smell her hair, getting a whiff of apple. Her arms wrap clumsily around my waist. She's stiffer than a board but that she's allowing me to hold her means everything to me. I wonder, for the nth time, how, despite the abuse and mental manipulation, she can be a gentle, caring, happy, beautiful person—inside and out.

Above her head, I notice a kid curiously staring at us. She couldn't have been more than six. Even as our eyes meet, the little girl's staring doesn't falter. She gives me a shy wave and grin. That is until who I believe is her mother scolds her for looking at us. Odd, considering Ana and I are only hugging, or I'm squishing her breathless in my arms, whatever. The mother gives me a scathing look before yanking her daughter into the candy aisle, away from the G-rated PDA.

I clear my throat and let Ana go. She takes a not-so-subtle deep breath. Ana touches my arm slowly. She appears flabbergasted and unsure how to act or what to say. After a moment of opening and closing her mouth, she seems to decide to wait for an explanation for my odd behavior.

I don't know what to tell her that won't give me away, so maybe I should just. . . play it off? I straighten my shoulders and try for an air of indifference. Act like nothing happened. What was her question again? Oh, right.

"No to anything that involves over an hour of special effect makeup." I don't elaborate. I smile and start for the last aisle again.

Ana steps in front of me, stopping me. "Christian, what happened? You looked like you wanted to vomit."

I'm sure I did. "I'm fine, sunshine." I bend slightly and kiss her pink cheek.

She laces her fingers through mine. "No, Christian. What is it? I'm serious. You looked green and ready to blow chunks. Was it something I said? You can tell me." Ana peers into my eyes, concern pouring out of her.

 _No, I can't_ , I think. You _need to tell_ me. My smile still in pace, I lie, "I was remembering a prank my brother did on me."

"A prank?" Ana's eyebrows raise, not convinced.

"Yeah, I was nine. I was sleeping and woke up to a dead rat lying on my face. Its hair had gotten in my nose and mouth. I threw up everywhere," I exaggerate. I'm not lying, though; my stupid brother and his friends actually did that to me.

"How awful!" Her nose scrunches up in disgust. "Why would he do that?"

"He was having a slumber party with friends. Just goofing around, I think. He was grounded for a month."

"Where did they get a dead rat?"

"He wouldn't say."

Ana looks down to where our toes almost touch. "Why were you thinking about it?"

My smile drops, and I swallow thickly. Slowly, I say, "I saw a fake rat on display, and I just . . . thought of it." I shrug, but she doesn't see the motion.

"Oh," she says awkwardly.

"So," I say, stepping around her. "Costumes?" Still not looking convinced, she nods.

* * *

I am currently in a fitting room, wearing no pants or shoes. Ana had instructed me to take them off before having Sawyer hand this god-awful costume over to me. To make matters worse, I'm not even in an actual fitting room. It's just long black curtains that create five private sections. There isn't a mirror in here, only one outside. It's a good thing Sawyer arranged with the store manager to temporarily close the fitting area to anyone else to give us a small form of privacy. He is sitting on a stool nearby, blocking entry to this closed corner.

I hold the inflated plastic and cotton pants out in front of me. Perhaps giving Ana the reins in picking our costumes was a bad idea. How do I tell her her first choice is stupid? She can't honestly expect me to wear this weird thing. I can imagine what she's going to put on to match this weird dumb costume I now hold in my hands. I should have peeked when she threatened me not to. The worst I imagined was her picking something too revealing for herself.

"Ana!" I call out to her, knowing she's in the "changing room" next to me. "You cannot be serious!"

In a deceitfully sweet voice, she calls, "Are you finished?"

"I am not wearing this," I say. "Give me another to try on."

"But I've already got mine on," she whines. "Please at least try it on so I can see how we look side by side."

I sigh. "Damn it. Fine. Give me a second." I shove first my right leg then my left leg carefully into the inflated pants. Christ, I feel like I'm wearing a diaper backward. I toss the white plastic cord thing over my shoulder as the picture of the package shows. I don't care what Ana says or tries to negotiate, I am _not_ wearing this to the party. Even if she pouts, I will flat out refuse. It's bad enough Sawyer is going to see me wearing this. Jesus, what is Ana going to wear to match this?

"Okay, Christian," Ana calls. "I'm out."

Deep breaths, Grey. She'll see it's stupid and choose another costume. I push the curtain to the side and step out. Ana is already checking herself out in the only mirror. I stand behind her, a smile threatening to break my scowl as I take her reflection in. She's wearing a black rectangular shaped dress over her shirt and pants, making her look bulkier than she really is. She strikes a pose, one hand on her hip and the other high over her head.

"Plug and Outlet. How sexy," I finally chuckle, looking her up and down through the mirror. Okay, it's still stupid but a little funny.

"Aren't they, in a cutesy kind of way? When I saw them, I knew we had to at least try them on and get a picture." Her eyes meet mine through the mirror. And there's the smile I wanted to see when we left my penthouse, lighting my entire world.

I touch the lower socket picture on the dress, noticing my plug is dead center of the two sockets. She's right; we need to take a picture. Though I don't plan on anyone else seeing it but her and me.

"Okay, one selfie," she says, turning back to the mirror and scooting to the side to show my plug. Man, that sounds dirty. I put my arm around her shoulders as she digs out her cell from her pants pocket. She holds up her phone, and chirps, "Cheese!"

I inspect the picture after it's taken. She's grinning wide, and I'm gazing down at her in adoration. I didn't realize my feelings were that transparent. Oddly, I find I don't mind that. Let the world see how much Ana means to me. If it weren't for potential threats against her, of course. No need to give the enemy ammunition.

"Send that to me." I'll have it printed and put somewhere no one can see but us. Maybe a photo album? As I think that, an idea pops into my head.

"Ana, were there any more costumes like these?"

She slips the dress over her head, her shirt lifting to expose her belly button. "Yeah, a few. Want to try them on, too?" She discards the dress on a vacant chair.

"If you don't mind. We can get more pictures for fun."

"Okay. I'll go grab them and other actual candidates for the party while you take those pants off." Without a backward glance, she was gone.

Back in my fitting room, I shimmy myself out of the costume. I try to fold it as it first was as I can before shoving it into the clear bag I took it out of. I'll leave that in the corner for now. I wait for Ana.

Back behind the curtain, I kick off the pants and stuff them as neatly as I'm capable into their packaging. I set it in the corner.

Some minutes later, I hear Ana huffing nearby. She calls, "Sawyer, I think I dropped two on my way over. Can you _please_ get them for me?"

"Yes, Ms. Steele," Sawyer replies.

"Thank you!"

I poke my head out. She drops an armful of costumes on a chair. "How many did you get, Ana?"

She looks at me over her shoulder as she sorts the clothes. "Not much. Just thirteen for each of us." She tugs a red costume free. "You might want to put your pants back on for this next one."

"Okay."

A short moment later, as I'm zipping up, Ana says, "Are you decent?"

After I say yes, she steps inside. "Close your eyes!" I do. "Bend over a little. I'm going to slip this over your head. Okay! Now your arms. Great. Now put this on your head."

Ana dresses me in what feels like a stiff, foamy dress. I run my hands over myself, feeling the length comes to just above my knees. The thing on my head is cone-shaped and the same material as the dress. What the hell did she put on me?

She takes my hand, saying, "Do not open your eyes."

"What am I wearing, Ana?" I ask as I hear her move the curtain to the side.

"Trust me. I'm just leading you to the mirror." I follow her blindly and slowly. "Okay, when I tell you to open your eyes, open them."

I nod and wait. She moves around and whispers something to presumably Sawyer. She's too low for me to hear though I strain to. This waiting is killing me. Have I not mentioned I'm not an incredibly patient person? If I hadn't, I should let her know soon.

Ana's fingers suddenly intertwine with mine and she presses tightly to my side. "Okaaaaay. Open your eyes!"

I do, and my jaw drops. "You know I hate mustard!" I touch the hat that's meant to be a lid on my head in distaste. While I am a mustard bottle, Ana is dressed as my counterpart, a fucking ketchup bottle.

Beside me, Ana is smiling widely at me. "Aren't these amazing?" She laughs when I grimace. "Oh, c'mon. You said to find funny costumes, and I did. We look ridiculous."

I snake my arm around her. "You're right about that, sunshine." Finally, I laugh. Only with Ana can I dress in comical matching outfits simply for the fun of it. Can't remember a day I did something goofy for fun. A month ago, sans Ana, an activity like this would be wasting time that could be better spent working or fucking, not that I was getting any for the latter last month. I don't want the weekend to end. Then, Ana goes to her apartment, because she doesn't have any clothes at my place, and I'll have to console myself with one-hour lunches throughout the week.

"Alright, then, let's take that picture," I say.

She giggles, "Got it taken care of." She points at the mirror, but I follow her finger to Sawyer's reflection. He's standing a bit next to us and behind us.

"Ms. Steele." He hands back her phone, inclines his head to me with a stiff jaw—more likely than not to keep from smirking, the bastard. He disappears from my view to retake his seat again.

At my raised eyebrow, she explains, "I had him take the picture right after you opened your eyes, so we can capture your reaction." Ana clicks around on her phone, then hands it to me. In the picture, Ana hides her grin behind her hand, her eyes trained on me. My eyes are wide, and my mouth is hanging open. I look shocked. Perhaps shook would be the better word, as the young people would say it.

"You look like Shrek," Ana laughs. "You know when he and Donkey first get to Duloc? That picture that the machine takes of them? You have the exact same expression."

Giving her phone back, I say, "Wouldn't know."

She takes off her hat and fluffs out her hair. "Wouldn't know what?"

I follow suit. "Whatever you're talking about. I've never seen it." I take the costume off.

Ana hesitates in her reach for it. "You've never seen Shrek? It's a classic!"

"Why would I? I was turning sixteen the year it came out. I wasn't interested in watching a kid's movie at that age."

Ana puts the mustard costume on its hanger. "Who cares if you were sixteen? I watched Frozen when it came out, and I was twenty."

"Sure, but you're. . . sweet like that. Mia watched it, too. And she's a year older than you. I just wasn't interested at the time." I stuff the yellow hat into the small bag attached to the hanger.

"Still," Ana mumbles after putting the ketchup costume on a rack off to the side of the mirror. I follow suit. "I've never met anyone who hasn't seen Shrek. Wait, Mia would have been around seven or eight. You didn't watch it with her?"

"She never was into it because Shrek is ugly. She was very vain as a child." _And as an adult_.

"Next you'll tell me you've never seen Toy Story."

"Don't be silly, Ana. Everyone's seen that movie." I roll my eyes. "Mia was three, and she absolutely loved it. Watched it like a million times before she turned five."

Ana harrumphs, but I can see her little smirk.

In the pile of costumes she'd dumped on a chair, I pick out a bacon shirt. Under it is an eggs dress. "Round three?"

Like clockwork, Ana and I try on the next eleven costumes that are funny (eggs and bacon, twin Where's Waldos, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and twin Pikachus), heroic (Superman and Lois Lane, and Batman and Catwoman), villainous (Joker and Harley Quinn), Disney-themed (Cinderella and Prince Charming, Belle and Beast, and Jack and Sally), and fairy-tale-themed (Red Riding Hood and Big Bad Wolf). I shot all the serious possible costumes for the party down.

Ana and I never considered the funny costumes—those were just for our amusement. I've already spent a Halloween as Superman and Batman when I was young. There was no way Ana was going to wear the panties that Harley Quinn's costume was equipped with. I also didn't want to go as a couple cliché, so I said no to the rest.

I sense Ana's annoyance with me rejecting all her picks thus far. There is one last chance before I take it upon myself to search the store. That would be a lost cause, given its less than a week till Halloween and the better costumes have been sold out.

After I'd said no to the last one, Ana had huffed and taken a costume to her fitting room so fast I was unable to see what was left for her to try on. I know I was being a pain in her ass, but I'll make it up to her when we go home. Maybe with a foot massage.

That last costume, the Big Bad Wolf, had me taking my shirt off. Shirtless, I hold up Ana's last choice for me. It's a black and red knee-length cape equipped with a black cane—which I found little funny—and red horns. The name on the tag read, "Devil." And Ana is going as my counterpart. In my mind, I picture her in black and red lingerie with horns and a tail. I might actually like this one.

I put my shirt on, then tie on the cape, put on the horns, and grab the cane. Fairly simple. I might say yes to this if it were a better quality. I could order something more to my taste. Ana will definitely be wearing a black dress over the lingerie for the party, but as soon as we are home, it'll be ripped off her. My mouth salivates with the anticipation.

I step out to see my reflection. It's not bad but does need improvement. I could wear an all-black suit, acquire a velvet black red cape, and order customized detailed matching horns for Ana and myself. I already own a genuine ebony walking cane with a solid gold cap (for fitting the theme of one of my mother's many galas).

"Ana, I like this one," I call out.

"Really? Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass finally approves? How spectacular!" Ana calls back sarcastically. "Let's hope my costume isn't too slutty for His Highness."

That mental image of Ana dressed like a slutty devil comes, naturally. "I have an idea to work around that for your friends' party."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Let's just say, 'Classy Devil in the streets, Slutty Devil in the sheets.'"

"Hold on, do you mean your role-playing fetish? Want me to wear lingerie under my dress that I can only show you?"

I take off the horns and dump it on a chair along with the plastic cane. As I untie the cape, I say, "Yes, exactly that." I retrieve the bag the costume came in from my dressing room and set it with the rest of the veto-ed costumes.

"But _I'm_ not dressing as a devil. _You_ are," she emphasizes. "Are you planning to wear a thong with your costume, Mr. Grey?"

I pause. "We both are going as devils, aren't we? King and Queen of Hell?" I should order crowns, too.

"No, Christian. You'd be the devil, and I'd be the angel."

Angel? Ana?

 ***WARNING***

Just like that, I'm seeing those fucking photos again. One in particular. My Ana at the ripe age of fifteen wearing a halo and angel wings and nothing else. Her on her back. Westbrook between her legs, taking her virginity. Blood smeared on her and him.

A tightness takes over my body and my muscles contract. My vision blurs as my heart pounds wildly in my chest.

How the fuck can I be trying on costumes, acting like I don't know anything when Ana's rapist is walking around without a care in the world? Did she not tell me Friday he'd tried to rape her again? Why the fuck haven't I beaten him yet? He fucking hurt her!

"Mr. Grey," Sawyer whispers, gripping my arm suddenly. "Calm down."

"Fucking Westbrook," I hiss, yanking his hold off me.

He immediately grabs my wrist and puts his mouth close to my ear. "Mr. Grey, I know, but calm down. We have eyes on him 24/7. We've got him already! He's going to leave her alone. Take a deep breath."

His hand touching me, I see the bruises on his knuckles he got after threatening Westbrook. "How can you be so fucking sure? He could try calling her or emailing her to meet him somewhere if he slips Morgan or Harrison. We don't know how strong his hold on her is. She can go to him if he tells her to."

"I made myself clear. He cried like a bitch after the first punch to his gut. He'll stay away from her." I try to protest, and he quickly adds, "We'll protect Ana, even from herself. She's probably dying to get rid of him. If he had much that control over her, she'd had left you the first time he told her to."

Ana slips past the curtain and steps to the mirror, not noticing Sawyer and I huddled together. "I like the wings, but I'm not so crazy about the dress or halo," she says, oblivious. "I think I have a white dress at home that could work, though and a halo."

 _Not the one from the picture_ , I plead to myself.

"Christian, what do you think?" Ana twirls once, the feathery wings bobbing up and down with the motion. She halts and looks at us concerned. "What's going on?"

I don't say anything. As I look at her dressed like an angel, I also see her on her back with Westbrook between her legs. I groan and grimace. Not able to look at her more, I look away.

 ***END WARNING***

Sawyer speaks up. "There's been a situation, Ms. Steele. Mr. Grey looks to be getting ill. We need to head back."

Ana hurries to my side. "Oh, God. You should have told me as soon as you started feeling off." She presses her hand to my cheek. "You don't feel warm, but you're sweating. And you look green again. Did you see that fake rat again?"

I don't answer, just nod. God, she must think I'm a pussy, but what else can I tell her?

She hurries behind a curtain. A moment later, she steps out in her clothes disheveled. "I hate leaving a mess, but I want to put you straight to bed. C'mon." She gives me a sideways hug, then takes my hand. "We should have brought a car. How far away is your place? Like ten minutes, right? We'll get you there in one piece. Don't worry."

I squeeze her hand as she tugs me along. "Thank you, but I'm beginning to feel better again."

Ana slows her pace but doesn't stop walking. "Well, we are still leaving. What if you see another rat? You know, I have half a mind to kick your brother in his shin for traumatizing you," she growls.

I laugh imagining that. Considering they have a full foot height difference, I'd love to see Elliott get taken down by my little ray of sunshine. "Don't bother. It was so long ago. I doubt he even remembers."

* * *

Balancing the big bowl of buttered popcorn and two cokes on the tray, I enter the media room. Ana is busy examining my Blu-ray collection to glance my way. I set the tray down on one of the double recliners.

"Find anything, sweetheart?" I come up behind her and rest my chin on her head. My hands encircle her waist.

"I can't decide between the Conjuring, The Vow, or Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You are the deciding vote."

"What are each about?"

Ana whirls around in my arms. "You've not seen them?" I shake my head and tilt it. "But you own them," she says, baffled.

I shrug. "I haven't seen most of these movies. This room truly belongs to my siblings. They both petitioned for me to have a room they couldn't be bored in."

"I get that, but why haven't you seen them? Do you not like movies?"

Sitting on a recliner, I shrug again. "I have better things to do than sit around and watch movies. As I said, Elliott and Mia mostly use it when they come to visit. My time is valued. Being in here is not."

Ana crosses her arms self-consciously. She frowns. "You're in here now."

I reach out and grab her wrists. She comes willingly when I pull her onto my lap. "I value my time with you, and you're in here."

She blushes and looks down. "I value my time with you, too, Christian."

Smiling, I kiss her once. "So, what are those movies you wanted to watch about? No spoilers please."

Shifting in my lap, she says, "The Conjuring is a horror movie. A family of seven moves into this really old house but its haunted. The Vow is a romance. Wife gets in an accident and loses her memory of her husband. Mr. and Mrs. Smith is an action movie. A married couple finds out the other is an assassin."

I don't need to think about this. "The last one, definitely."

Ana jumps up and off my lap to grab the movie. "Action, it is."

Ana and I share a double recliner as the movie plays. Both of my feet touch the floor while Ana's are tucked under her. She's leaning against me and I have my arm around her shoulders. The popcorn sits on my lap and with my free hand, I eat handfuls of perfectly buttered popcorn. This is hands down the most relaxed I've been in the last few days.

In the movie, watching Jane pretend to be a dominatrix to kill her target, I admit, I did get a little turned on. It's been ages since I was a submissive, but I think I'd be willing to do that again for a scene with the girl beside me. In my dreams, anyway. I doubt Ana would be able to dominate me; it doesn't fit her personality thus far.

"Maybe you should go as her," I tease.

Ana giggles. "Yeah, and you could be my slave." I laugh, though now I think of us clad in leather with my leash and whip in her hands.

Ana continues, "As appealing as that is, you'd never let me wear something so provocative, and you know it."

Suddenly, she sits up, almost knocking the popcorn off my lap. "Careful, Ana," I scold, putting no fire behind it. Mrs. Jones keeps this place so clean we could probably eat straight from the floor.

Ignoring my comment, Ana exclaims, "We could go as that!"

"Mistress and slave? I don't think so, Ana."

She smacks my arm excitedly. "No! As them." She points to the screen. "We can go as Mr. and Mrs. Smith!"


End file.
